


Our Father, Who Art Buried in the Yard

by Grandapplewit



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Azula's homicidal tendancies, Fun family bonding, Gen, Inspired by MuffinLance, Medical Inaccuracies, Mentions of Sexual Assault, No actual sexual assault, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Ozai's (Avatar) A+ Parenting, azula joins zuko on the ahklut, hakoda has... some things to say about this, inspired by salvage, no beta we die like jet, no editing we die like lu ten, so do most of the adults azula and zuko interact with
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:40:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25725280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grandapplewit/pseuds/Grandapplewit
Summary: Inspired by Muffinlance's Salvage, Hakoda not only picks up a surly traumatized teenager but his sarcastic, angry sister as well. Ozai may not want his son back, but his daughter on the other hand... well, Hakoda is ready and willing to fight for custody of the daughter that isn't his, and the son that's safer among enemies than with his own father.
Relationships: Azula & Hakoda (Avatar), Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Azula and a functional moral compass, Hakoda & Zuko (Avatar), zuko and responsible parental figures
Comments: 408
Kudos: 2117
Collections: Azula’s Redemption, Best of Avatar: The Last Airbender





	1. Pleasing a Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MuffinLance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuffinLance/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Salvage](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21116591) by [MuffinLance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuffinLance/pseuds/MuffinLance). 



> Fic titled from the Richard Silken Bot on twitter
> 
> The Akhlut and its crew also comes from MuffinLance
> 
> Not beta-read, all mistakes are mine

She really shouldn’t have been on the deck. The waves had been crashing higher and higher for the better part of an hour, the rain making the metal oil slick. She wouldn’t even have been on the deck if her dum-dum brother hadn’t been stubbornly brooding in the middle of a storm, staring at the clouds as if they’d suddenly break and show him the Avatar flying overhead. Of course, that’s what had happened last time, but what’re the chances it would happen twice?

It was a fool's move, really. He had been staring at the clouds and she had been staring at him, trying to figure out the best way to get him to put some salve on that bruise Uncle had been conveniently ignoring. She should have been watching where she was stepping. The storm had apparently decided that the crew wasn’t seasick enough as it was and Agni, she had treated her childhood bath toys with more delicacy. A wave crashed down on the deck, tilting the ship at a terrifying angle. Normally she wouldn’t have been phased, just an adjustment in her stance and eventually the world would tilt back to normal. She wasn’t even wearing armor, she should’ve been _fine_ but she’d put her foot down in moving water and before she knew it, the metal railing had come rushing towards her faster than she could shield her face. The world was dark before she hit the ocean.

****

He shouldn’t have been standing on the deck. The storm was raging around them, tossing the ship like it was made of paper. He shouldn’t have been out in the storm, but he couldn’t sleep and his head was pounding from that Agni damned Arrow, and that last time they’d been caught in a storm like this, the clouds had split and shown them the Avatar flying overhead. He couldn’t chance it happening again and missing his shot, _again._

(Uncle kept telling him that his destiny would come to him whether he was dragging it by the tail or not, but _destiny_ had never been very kind to him anyways. It could do with a little jerking around.)

The storm was raging around them, and the night crew was up in the cabin. None of _them_ thought the Avatar was important enough to stand out in a storm, but their honor didn’t rest on their ability to capture him either.

(Uncle would just use the inevitable cold he got as an excuse to test out new tea blends.)

The storm was raging. The wind was howling. A humongous wave was crashing onto the deck, knocking the boat sideways.

He almost missed it, in his shock of being tossed around like a ragdoll, the sickly metallic _clang_ amongst the raging of the winds and the shouts of the night crew. The wave knocked him to the ground, rolling him around just in time to see Azula flip over the railing meant to keep soldiers _on_ the deck, her body limp like a cut puppet.

“Azula!” He heard uncle shout from somewhere behind him, but it was muffled. The sounds distorted like his head was underwater. The yelling of the crew was dimmed, like his parents had been when he'd heard them fighting through the walls when he was younger. Before everything had gotten screwed up. He couldn’t think, the rain blurring his vision as he ran. He couldn’t even feel his legs moving. “Wait, Zuko, no!”

Falling was weightless, the rain easing up as he plummeted.

The ocean was cold, so cold, and his armor dragged him down despite the practiced motions his Uncle had taught him at Ember Island. The gray of the sky faded, blending in with the murkiness of the ocean. The silence was deafening, pushing against his head and demanding access into his mind. The water caught at his fingers, pulling the feeling out along with the warmth. He scrambled for the ties holding his armor on, the sturdy cords slipping through his increasingly numb fingers. He wrestled the metal over his head, feeling it sink to the depths as his breath burned in his lungs.

He was good at not dying, he could do it again.

(Azula wasn’t the type to die either, Father would be so disappointed.)

A spark of gold flashed in the murky depths, followed by a dark mass that’s deeper than the darkness surrounding him. He swam towards her, the water dragging at his vambraces and boots. He kicked them off, grabbing for Azula’s arm as she sank deeper. He pulled her towards him, holding her waist and pinning her back to his chest. She was heavier than he’d remembered, but at least she didn’t have any armor on. Pins and needled raced through his fingers as he kicked, desperately, pulling them towards the surface as black spots crowd his vision.

Breaking the surface was a shock, the storm seeming a thousand times louder than it was on the ship. Rain pelted his face, blurring his vision.

“Zuko!” Uncle screamed from somewhere to their left, and _oh_ he sounds so distressed. Zuko turned, the ship was farther away than he’d remembered but several crew members were holding Iroh back, fighting like he’s really trying to jump in after them. _That’s ridiculous, we’ll be back on the ship in no ti-_

A wave crests over his head, shoving the two of them back under the water.

(Uncle had taught him to swim a long time ago, he’d be fine.)

It’s harder to swim to the surface the second time. Azula a dead weight in his arms, the cold leaching the strength from his muscles and the fire from his spirit. His fingers start to tingle, like when he used to sleep on his side and his arm would fall asleep in the middle of the night.

The surface seems so much farther than it was before. The rain pounded down above him like when he was back home, at the palace. The summer storms putting him to sleep with their howlings winding and the muffled, rhythmic, pounding of the rain on the roof. 

The rain hurt when he broke the surface.

He could hear Uncle screaming something terrible in the distance, but the ship was nowhere in sight, concealed by the waves and the gray and he’s so, so tired. _That’s wrong, Uncle shouldn’t be screaming. He can go back to the Fire Nation now; he won’t be stuck on this goose-hare chase with us. With me._

(Uncle had chosen to come with him, just like Azula had.)

The winds howling slowly died down, carrying Uncles cries with it.

(Uncle always said he wouldn’t go home without Zuko. Just like Azula had.)

A log knocked into his head, twisting around them in the waves. The waves that are no longer shoving them into the depths seemed to be petting them, as if apologizing for condemning them to a slow, painful death. Like mother used to do when they were falling asleep at breakfast. He grabbed for the log, a smooth, weathered thing swollen with saltwater, a scorch mark scarring the wood.

His limbs felt heavy, like he was walking around with Uncle’s bags when they stopped in a merchant’s port.

It was harder to get Azula’s sash off than it was his own. Whether that was from the numbness in his fingers, or the shakiness left by adrenalin slowly leaving his system, he didn’t know. The sash wasn’t big enough to fit the two of them, and he certainly wasn’t up for getting his own sash off, but he could lift Azula onto the log. Tying her so her head was out of the water and he could hold on without having to use his fingers. He rested on his back in the water, praying that Azula would wake up before the Buzzard Gulls got too curious.

The world floated into darkness in time with Azula’s shallow breaths.

_****_

_“_ Hey, Chief, gotta pair of floaters over here,” Tuluk leaned on the railing, chin in his hands. There were probably more compassionate ways of saying ‘hey two people drowned out here,’ but who was to judge. They’d all be on the sea for far too long. “Looks like siblings.”

“Siblings? Damn shame,” he heard Aake mutter from where he was tightening the ropes. “Don’t people know to not send both their kids on the same ship anymore?”

Hakoda looked over the rail, staring the pale bodies latched onto a fragment of a mast. They didn’t look like they’d been dead for long, no bloating or purple tint marred their faces. If they were anywhere but the middle of the ocean, Hakoda would’ve just thought that they were two teens taking a quick nap.

That probably should’ve been a sign.

The larger corpse blinked open his eyes like he’d heard his thoughts, glaring up at Hakoda like he was personally responsible for their misfortune. He made no move to swim towards the boat, he didn’t even yell out for help. He had his arm securely under the other not-corpse, and he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the mast.

“shit,” Tuluk sighed, grabbing a coil of rope to toss over. “I don’t think they’re gonna be able to get up here on their own, Chief, the small one’s still unconscious.”

“Right, any takers?” a chuckle shifted through the men on deck. Hakoda groaned, pulling off his coat and boots. The water was cold, a shock to the system no matter how less fatal it was than polar waters. He swam towards the flotsam, grabbing it and trying to not comment on how the boy tensed, or how the other not-corpse was a girl. No one but the Fire Nation had women in their ranks. “Swim towards the rope, I’ll get her up.”

The kid opened his eyes into a glare, made worse by the nasty burn scar over his eye, but let go of the flotsam without complaint. Then immediately sunk below the waves. A moment later, the rope tightened as the boy managed to snag onto it, even after being half-frozen in the ocean for Tui knows how long. That probably should’ve been another sign of what Hakoda was getting his crew into.

****

He had no idea how long he’d been unconscious, but it must’ve been quite some time because when he opened his eyes, not only was the sky lightening with the sun, but there was a _wooden_ boat right in front of them. Wood, who builds boats out of wood? Idiots, that’s who. Don’t they know that wood’s _flammable?_

He closed his eyes against the pounding in his brain. He could feel the blood rushing in his ears, but it didn’t have the heat it usually did. He felt waterlogged, cold and bloated right down to his spirit. His inner fire more of a smoking twig than a burning flame.

A few yards away, there was a splash.

Then the log moved, like somebody had grabbed it. He opened his eyes, and _why was there another person in the water?_

“Swim towards the rope, I’ll get her up,” the man with the wooden boat said, even as he moved to untie Azula. The rope had landed a few feet away, a short swim, but impossible when he couldn’t even move his arm without sinking.

Zuko was good at impossible, he’d been born, after all, which was a feat in and of itself.

He let go of the wood, and promptly sank beneath the waves. Somehow, _somehow,_ he grabbed into the rope. He wound it around his arm, letting the crew pull his dead weight aboard. He could hold on, he was good at doing one task until it killed him.

****

The girl would be harder, a dead weight in the water. Dried blood caked the side of her face, some of it had even dripped down to the mast, staining the wood. The good news was she was still breathing. Barely there, shallow, rasping breaths, sure, but she was breathing. Kustaa was gonna have his hands full if he wanted this kid to live. He heard the boy _thwap_ onto the deck, and the rope got tossed back into the water.

The going was slow, he had to swim on his back with one arm, but the girl was light enough that she barely caused him to sink. Well, she would’ve been if he hadn’t pushed off of the flotsam and then realized how damn _small_ she was. Tui and La, Katara had been this size when he’d left to go to war, how _old_ were these kids?

The crew pulled him up, and he settled the girl on the deck. Now, out of the water and laid out on the wood, she looked even smaller.

“Chief, this one’s got gold eyes.” Of course, of course they would. Two teens, probably a little older than his own children, and they had to go and be fire nation.

“We did pass a Colonies ship a couple of days back, think they could’ve gotten caught up in the storm?”

Hakoda had been thinking the same thing, but a couple of days' journey by boat in the opposite direction wouldn’t have gotten covered in the several hours it had been since the storm passed.

“But… that’s what soldiers wear under their armor, isn’t it? I mean, not the girl, but the boy.”

Hakoda had also been thinking that. Either they had a teenage soldier, or some colonies brat had decided he was tired of living off of fruits and stolen bread. If it was a colony kid, Hakoda hoped for his sake that he had a damn good reason to be in that uniform.

Behind the Soldier, still kneeling and hacking up water as Tuluk pounded his back, Aake met his eyes and touched the sword on his hip. Hakoda nodded, touching his sword back. They were young, but the Fire Nation shouldn’t deploy child soldiers if they didn’t want them to get killed. This was war, and they had spared no child or soldier in the reverse.

****

They had gotten him on deck and they hadn’t even let him breathe before they were _hitting_ him. Every time he stopped hacking up water, he tried to take a breath but some idiot was pounding on his back like it was a Taiko drum, and he _couldn’t breathe_. There was just water and a jolt and then _more water_. Agni, he really hated the ocean sometimes.

(They wanted to get the rope away from him, wasn’t he supposed to hold on to the rope?)

He looked up, in between spewing seawater onto the deck, and saw the man set Azula down. She looked bedraggled and young, unconsciousness smoothing out the furrow in her brow. With no smirk carving up her face, she almost looked sweet. Like the little sister he remembered before she started Fire bending.

His body burned. Not the kind of burn that came from flames, though, the kind of burn that prickled up and down his nerves like knives. The kind of burn that Fire Benders didn’t survive.

“Chief, this one’s got gold eyes,” the man who was hitting his back said, then hit him again. More water splashed onto the deck.

****

He walked towards the kid gasping for breath and tilted his chin up. Tuluk had said gold, but that was usually a catch-all for the ambers and coppers that the Fire Nation was so proud of. But this kid had gold eyes, like the coins General Fong gave them once a month when they docked in the Earth Kingdom. Like the eyes of a leopard otter stalking its prey through the snow. It wasn’t _natural._ At least not for a human.

“Are you Fire Nation?” He had to make sure. If the kids were war children, they had no reason to go dumping them back over the rails. They didn’t kill innocents. They weren’t monsters.

“Of course,” the kid seemed affronted that he’d even ask, glaring at him like it was _his_ fault they’d been half-drowned in the ocean. Like he hadn’t just admitted to something that was a death sentence in a good thirty percent of the world.

“Well, gold eyes, under armor, and undying loyalty to a nation of murderers, what’s your call, Chief?” Tuluk sighed, leaning back against the mast. The kid was hacking himself to death on his own now. “And what about the girl? She’s not in any armor?”

“But it was nighttime, Tuluk, and you know the Fire Nation lets their women fight. Can’t have an army of world conquerors of half the nation’s back at home.” Aake stepped forewords, hand resting on the pommel of his sword. “If he’s a soldier, there’s a good chance she is too.”

“How old do you reckon they are? The girl can’t be older than sixteen,”

“These are Fire Nation we’re talking about, they don’t age a day until they hit seventy, you know that-“

The soldier was still coughing into the deck, shivering, but not enough that came from spending time in La’s embrace. It’s never good when they stop shivering.

****

The crew stood above him, talking over him like he was a turtle seal caught in the nets. The man who had brought Azula out of the water had grabbed his face, then the other had _finally_ stopped hitting him, but the words they were saying were distorted. Like he was listening from underwater again.

“ _At least… not… Fire Bender_ ,” the one who had been hitting him said, sending a laugh and a glance towards his eye. The world was muffled, pressing in on him from all sides, but it’s not like that had ever stopped his from defending his own pride. A mark of disgrace was a mark of disgrace, and he hadn’t burned himself in years.

“I am a firebender,” he shot a glare at the man who had laughed.

“Well… that was honest,” the man looked a little flabbergasted, like he’d never met a fire bender before. He stepped forewords and smacked Zuko on the back, _again._

He didn’t like it and he just wanted them to _stop._ To stop hitting him _,_ and stop grabbing his face, and stop wearing blue when they should be in red. But no Fire Nation ship would ever be built out of wood, so he should have expected this from the moment he’d opened his eyes.

Quietly, so quiet he almost missed it, a sword was unsheathed behind him.

Of course they weren’t going to help, why had he ever expected them to. They were wearing blue on a wooden boat and he was the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation, they’d sooner drown than help him. But of course, he’d seen hope and fallen for it, like he did every time, _stupid-_

****

The sword would be kinder than leaving them to the ocean. They were young, they probably hadn’t done anything worth suffering over. They would be quick, and as close to merciful as one would get in the middle of the ocean. Aake met his eyes and unsheathed his sword.

Like the kid either had super hearing or a sense of danger that came from spending time in battle, he went tense at the sound, knocking Tuluk’s hand off of his back. He staggered to his feet, swaying like a tree in a storm. The blood rushed out of his face, leaving him deathly pale and the scar a shock of mutilated reds and browns. The kid met his eyes, still glaring, and lifted his chin, squaring his shoulders like he had something to prove. Eh, he was a kid, he’d let him have his final words. It was the least he could do.

“My name is Prince Zuko. Son of Ursa and Fire Lord Ozai. If you’re going to execute me, do it while I’m on my feet, you cowards.”

…Right.

“Do it,” the ki– Prince Zuko, growled at them. He was still swaying on his feet, five seconds from collapsing to the ground, but now he was _worth_ something. Maybe he should’ve let Aake kill him before he had the chance to open his mouth.

“Tuluk, take him to the healers,” he waved a hand towards the kid, glancing at the girl. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t even twitched at the commotion her companion was causing. That headwound would need to get looked at, but there was a good chance she wouldn’t survive until the next port. A good chance that neither of them would. Hakoda hoped, if only to spare him the headache, that neither of them survived. They looked too similar for the girl to simply be another soldier.

“Five copper pieces as to who that is, Chief?” Tuluk stated without much inflection, tugging the Prince along. He stumbled, but he stayed upright as if it was out of pure spite. And maybe it was, maybe his entire existence was created to spite the world.

“Aake, could you take… _her_ downstairs as well?” A headache was beginning to bloom behind his eyes, and it wasn’t even an hour past sunrise.

The flat look Aake gave him spoke of dissent, but he did as he was asked. They’d be having a long conversation later, but then again, so would he and most of the crew. It wasn’t every day that they took two Imperial Fire Benders hostage.

“I know, we’ll deal with it if they live.”

The boy tensed under Tuluk’s hand at the words, and the Fire Nation royalty disappeared into the ship. Yeah, he definitely should’ve let Aake kill them before the _Prince_ had opened his mouth.


	2. Maybe This Was a Bad Idea

Hakoda had better things to do than staring at a blank piece of parchment for hours on end. He had a ship to run, attacks to organize, reports to write. He didn’t have time, nor the energy, to write a ransom note to the Fire Lord. How would one go about writing a ransom not, anyways? What could he reasonably ask of a father? What would he give, if it was reversed?

Regardless of whether he could write the ransom note or not, they were on a _wooden_ ship. They had no restraints, especially not ones that could hold an Imperial Firebender. There was a reason they didn’t take prisoners.

But he wouldn’t need to think about prisoners or the impending correspondence with the man who wanted Hakoda’s people burned to the ground if the two siblings didn’t survive.

It’s never kind to wish death on children, but this was war, and he’d grown up in the arctic. If it wasn’t practical, you didn’t do it. Practicality meant you survived winter.

He was startled out of his thoughts by a knock. Tuluk stepped into the room, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

“How are they?” He set the brush to the side, paper still achingly blank.

“Girl’s practically comatose, but Kustaa got the head wound wrapped up. Boys a little badger-viper, and Kustaa’s not sure he’ll make it,” Hakoda’s acting second shook his head, “and that’s if Aake doesn’t strangle the brat.”

Scuttles whined and scratched at his pant leg. Hakoda ran a hand over the isopup’s carapace absently, trying to come up with a response.

“Is he awake?”

“Not like he would be any more manageable if he was,” Tuluk sighed, “ Look, Chief, this is good leverage, but we can’t keep a Firebender. Especially not two of them. _Especially_ not if they’re both up and lucid. We could try to make the hypothermia a more permanent condition, but…”

“Yeah, yeah I know.” He’d thought about it, dipping the kids in the ocean every couple of days to keep their fire bending at bay. Spirits know the Fire Nation wasn’t shy about keeping other benders away from their elements, but he didn’t need Kustaa to tell him that they wouldn’t survive that.

He’d seen them, the girl limp on the deck and the boy too tired to shiver. He didn’t need to have a repeat.

“We’ll deal with it if he lives,” he rubbed his knuckles into his temple. “We can deal with Firebenders that don’t behave. Plus, they’re royalty. They’re supposed to be diplomatic, right?”

“Sure Chief,” Tuluk said, without much inflection. If Bato were here, this would’ve been an all-day argument, with Hakoda eventually giving in to his Second. Bato was the one who thought things through to every last detail, while Hakoda made the plans and the speeches. Now all he had was an empty hammock in the Crew Hold and two dying Firebenders in his infirmary. “Now, Aake seemed thirty seconds from chucking the kid out the porthole, so mind taking a turn with him? Ranalok’s got the girl, but she’s out of it.”

Aake hadn’t chucked the kid back into the water, but he looked like he was one comment from changing his mind, so Hakoda kept quiet about the growing black eye that hadn’t been there this morning. They were buried under piles of furs, the Firebender swamped by both the blankets and the crewman holding him. The girl was on the floor, equally covered in furs and a painfully awkward-looking Ranalok.

“Not too late to toss ‘em back, Chief,” Aake scowled, the bruising around his eye making the glare much more pronounced.

“Oh, would you like to switch?” Ranalok asked from the floor, still buried under the blankets. “The floor’s very comfortable.”

“When Tui meets La,” Aake groused, burying himself deeper in the blankets. The Firebender made a muffled sound and seemed to wiggle around under the blanket like a caught Tuna-eel. Ranalok muttered something under his breath, and Kustaa laughed.

“I heard we fished out a couple of baby badger-vipers,” Hakoda grinned. Ranalok’s muttering increased. “Why’s the girl on the floor, anyway?”

If anything, Ranalok looked even more awkward. Aake snorted.

“I’m not climbing into a _bed_ with a teenage girl, frozen or not.” Ranalok scrunched up his nose, disgusted by the thought. “Tuluk rigged the draw, said it’d be better if the ones with daughters took care of the girl. Plus, the boy got _twitchy_ if he couldn’t see her.”

“Tuluk rigged the draw, _twice_ ,” Aake glared at the barely visible Firebender next to him. “You try sleeping next to this thing.”

“That was the plan,” Hakoda said. Ranalok propped himself up on an elbow, a smirk playing at his lips.

Aake’s dramatic relief was more exaggerated than Hako thought it needed to be. It was one half-dead Firebender, how bad could he be? The kid buried his face in the blankets as Aake practically threw himself out of the bunk. “All yours, Chief,” he laughed.

Ranalok was watching with too much interest for a man currently lying on the floor.

“Make sure he stays calm and try not to jostle him too much. We don’t need to give him a heart attack thirty years early,” Healer Kustaa said, very pointedly fiddling with the burner on the table. “We don’t need him to overexert himself, _again._ ”

…Again?

“I’ve helped with hypothermia before, Kustaa,” Hakoda raised an eyebrow, kicking off his boots. The kid’s hair was plastered to his head, all greasy black and bristly chick fuzz that was probably hell to keep shaved.

Aake was grinning. Ranalok was laughing and not even bothering to hide it. Kustaa was still fiddling with whatever he was brewing, which, how long did it take to get the temperature right on tea? Half the world drank it, it couldn’t be that hard. Hakoda glanced at them, suspicious, before sliding under the blankets with the Fire brat.

The Firebender was _cold_ , which was a shock because the blankets were sweltering. The kids’ clothes were in a pile in the corner, dripping a puddle of water that they’d have to clean up later. The kid was the kind of cold that would make a parent cry, and that was for a normal person. For a _Firebender_? No wonder Kustaa didn’t like his odds. In fact, paired with the clammy skin and barely-there breaths, Hakoda would’ve thought he was climbing into bed with a corpse, if not for the peanut gallery’s snickers. He wrapped an arm around the kid, shooting Ranalok a look.

Aake leaned against the door frame like he’d gotten first row seats to some kind of show. He was _still_ grinning, and Ranalok was outright laughing at him now.

He opened his mouth to ask them what was so funny, but the little brat flung an elbow into Hakoda’s _gut,_ right where his ribs didn’t cover. He wrestled the other arm down before it could do any damage to his face or any _other_ extremities.

“Don’t let him move too much,” Healer Kustaa called out. Aake started laughing at the warning.

“S’too warm,” Ozai’s _spawn_ whined, his foot connecting with Hakoda’s kneecap with an accuracy that was concerning in people not trying to get over hypothermia.

Tui and La, what did the Fire Nation _teach_ their royalty? This was like wrestling a Tiger-Seal, but the Tiger-Seal was made of sharp elbows and anger.

“You could be a little more gentle, Chief, Aake found hugging to be a very effective method.”

Ranalok muffled his laughter.

“…hugging him.”

“It’s medicinal,” Kustaa replied, his lips twitching under his beard.

Aake was _still_ grinning.

“Go back to work,” Hakoda groused. “Unless you’d like your spot back?”

“I’ll trade you, Aake, you’ve got a daughter.” Ranalok sounded more than a little desperate.

Aake snorted, “I’ll tell the men all about what tragedy you’ve befallen.” He hastily exited the infirmary, smug smile on his lips.

Ranalok went back to muttering insults under his breath.

The kid was squirming, but no longer aggressively violent. He opened his unnatural eyes, glaring at Hakoda with as much energy as he could muster. His heartbeat ran like an injured Jackalope-Hare under Hakoda’s palms.

“You want me… to _hug_ him.” Hakoda let out a breath through his nostrils, glancing at the ship’s healer. Ranalok had settled back into his blanket nest, the girl completely buried. He was still laughing under his breath.

“And get him sitting up while you’re at it,” Kustaa poured whatever concoction he’d been brewing into a cup, steam wafting up and tinting the air with the smell of berries and spice.

****

The room was wood. The room was made of wood, and it was too warm, and people kept _touching_ him, kept him confined under the heavy, furry blankets in the – surprisingly comfortable – bed. The bed that was tall enough that Zuko could barely see Azula, who was lying on the _floor_ of all places. Why was Azula lying on the floor? She hated waking up with stiff joints and sore muscles, so whenever she’d sneak into his room she’d just bully him into scooching over, and they’d wake up at sunrise, curled together like how they would when they’d fall asleep in Mom’s bed. Her pair of panda kittens, she’d always call them.

They never talked about that.

But mom wasn’t there anymore, she hadn’t been for a long time. Mom wasn’t there, and Azula was on the floor, and the beds were too tall and the walls were wooden and the blankets were too weird, and they kept _touching_ him. It was like one of those puzzles he used to do with Mother to help him hold his brush in his right hand. There were so many dots and the lines were supposed to go in certain ways, but it was so _hard_ to hold the brush steady, not like he could with his left hand, so he could never connect the dots right. But… but Uncle was here, and he always looked out for him and Azula, so… so maybe it was okay to not let the dots connect for a little while.

“Ah, Prince Zuko, it’s time for tea,” and there was Uncle, trying to get him to drink more calming tea. He didn’t need _calming_ , thank you very much, he was the perfect amount of calm for his situation.

“I don’t want any of your stupid tea, Uncle.” Uncle always made the best teas, but it’s not like he could _admit_ that. Azula would never let him live it down.

“But you’re such a polite Nephew, you’re going to drink it anyway,”

“Fine.” The teacup was heavy, heavier than usual, and it click-clattered in his hands like they were shaking. Which was ridiculous, his hands didn’t shake, he wasn’t a _baby._ But Uncle helped him, even without having to ask, like usual. It was _hot._ It was really, really hot. It burned down his throat, which was _weird_ because Uncle _never_ made his tea too hot. It was always the perfect temperature, something neither he nor Azula could get right that they never talked about. Uncle made him take another sip of the too-hot tea before letting him go.

“He thinks you’re his Uncle?” The wall he was leaning against asked. Which wasn’t a wall at all, it was a person. A person who was hotter than the forge at Master Piandao’s during the summer and who had his arms wrapped around his stomach like he was supporting him like a baby, which he _wasn’t._ Zuko elbowed the not-wall in the ribs out of principle. The not-wall then trapped his arms against his side, and Zuko couldn’t get them out no matter how hard he squirmed. Azula would laugh herself sick if she could see him now, but she was asleep on the floor, which was still weird, so he had a little bit of time before the noise disturbed her. He aimed a kick at the man's foot and got shook like a drying piece of parchment for his trouble.

Breathing got a lot harder after that.

“He’s a bit out of it, though I can’t imagine what he’s like fully conscious.” Uncle was still there and seemed to be talking to the not-wall behind him. His beard was also… less pointy than usual. “it makes him easy to handle if you can keep him still. Though I feel sorry for his real Uncle, apparently he’s fat and lazy and always tells him to calm down. And makes terrible, stupid tea.”

“His Uncle’s the Dragon of the West.”

“Ah, well then, I’ll stop feeling sorry for him. That does make sense, apparently, he teaches both of the kids Firebending– and always makes the girl wait until they’re in the middle of nowhere to… practice lightning.”

“I’m sorry, lightning?” The not-wall tensed behind him until Zuko _really_ couldn’t move his arms. Or any of him.

“Yes, see, this is the badger-vipers little sister, Princess Azula of the Fire Nation. Apparently she’s very mean and a very good liar. And she doesn’t like sleeping on the floor.” 

“…right.”

“They all deserve each other, Chief, I’m sure. Come on, Prince Zuko, a little more.”

No matter what Azula said, he _wasn’t_ dramatic. The groan he let out at the thought of more tea was just… an appropriate way of letting Uncle know what he thought. He still drank the tea, but the point needed to be made. “Why are your eyes blue?”

“I’m trying something new,” Uncle said, like they weren’t on a budget had excess funds to waste on a new eye color when his old one looked perfectly fine. “Do you like it?”

_No._

“You’re weird,” Zuko said instead, because even if Uncle liked shopping just a little bit too much, none of the stuff he bought ever went to waste. He usually made pretty good haggling decisions, too. Plus, the room was getting darker even though he could still see the sun through the little window across from him, and _since when did our ship have windows?_ Yelling took too much effort, he could do that when the world stopped spinning around him. “ ‘m tired.”

“You can lay him down again, Chief, he should be asleep for a little while longer.”

“The tea?”

“No, that was just Cloudberry, trying to warm him up in both directions. But… he’s not doing well, Chief. He’s too cold for a nonbender, and that doesn’t even hold a candle to what a _Firebender_ should be. And the girl… She hasn’t responded to anything, hasn’t moved, hasn’t made a sound. I can barely get her to swallow water. I can’t see either of them making the night.”

“We’re _fine,_ Uncle. You worry too much.” Zuko muttered into his pillow, which was… when did he lay down again? The blankets were pressing him to the bed and the man behind him was holding him completely still, the heat burning against his skin. Maybe he’d just… take a nap. “Azula’s tough, she’ll wake up in no time, you’ll see.”

A hand brushed where his hair used to grow, avoiding the rough patch by his eye. It was slightly off, like it wasn’t the right size, and a bit too cool, but everything else about it was right. “That’s an Uncle’s privilege, you brat. And of course Princess Azula’s going to be fine, you always did say how lucky she was.”

****

Kustaa pulled his hand back, shaking it like he didn’t know what it had been doing. He sat back down, pouring another cup of the cloudberry juice. He put the teapot back on the burner, fiddling with it like the temperature the juice was kept at mattered when the soldiers weren’t going to survive the night.

“Alright, Princess, your turn. Can you get her sitting, Ranalok?”

Hakoda resettled his arms around the little snake, holding his wrists to his stomach like he was restraining a full-fledged soldier instead of a half-dead teenager. A half-dead teenager that couldn’t hold a teacup but who had enough energy to leave Hakoda with more bruises than he’d had since he and Bato had been teenagers. Tui and La he was going to be a nightmare if he survived.

But if this badger-viper described his little sister as mean, how much of a hand full would she be? Though Sokka always complained that Katara was mean whenever she knocked down his watchtower or yelled at him about his socks, so maybe it was just a sibling thing.

The kid's pulse slowed to barely-there beat it had been before.

Ranalok had gotten the girl sitting, and the blankets had fallen off. They’d kept her shirt on, thankfully, but the wet fabric probably wasn’t helping her chances– or Ranalok’s mood. Kustaa tipped her head back, massaging her jaw to open her mouth as best he could with one hand. With the other he poured a tiny bit of the cloudberry down her throat, running his fingers over the sides of her windpipe to get her to swallow.

Honestly, without Kustaa’s assurance that she was alive, Hakoda would’ve thought that they were giving tea to a corpse.

There was a ribbon around the soldier’s wrist, damp and crusted with seawater, but soft and smooth. It was like what the women of the water tribes would wear as necklaces, down to the smooth pendant attached in the middle. Maybe the boy had been working on a betrothal necklace for when he returned home, or maybe it was a reminder of a girl he’d left in the Fire Nation. He was around that age, Hakoda had been just a little older than him when he’d asked Kya to marry him. He had been older still when she’d said yes. Maybe the future Fire Lady was waiting for him to come home so she could keep him on his toes for a few months before agreeing to a life of luxury.

The small, oddly unassuming figure in front of him was going to be Fire Lord one day. What a strange thought. How would his rule be changed by his stay on the Akhlut, however short? Would he be humiliated, only more driven to tear the water tribes into extinction due to the slight to his pride? Or would he realize that they aren’t the savages they’re made out to be. Maybe he’d gain respect for a culture that wasn’t his and end his countries reign of terror. Heh, who was Hakoda kidding, the boy would probably take it as a personal challenge to burn the world to the ground.

If the boy lived.

If.

The pendant wasn’t just smooth, as he’d once thought. The back was smooth, yes, but the rounded front was carved delicately like someone had put love into the design. It reminded him of warm nights lying next to Kya with the kids sleeping safely just a room over. It reminded him of curling up with his mother during a blizzard, her soft voice telling him stories of her homeland as the wind howled over the ice outside.

The swirls and lines were more familiar than his own hand.

He stood, throwing the sheets off of the frozen Prince and tugging the boy's wrist to eye level. The ribbon was dark blue, the swirling pendant speaking of his homeland in every way he wished it wasn’t. He’d left this necklace, along with his two children, in the village. In the Village that was one of the last outposts of the Southern Water Tribe, that had _apparently_ been visited by the Prince of the Fire Nation sometime in the past two and a half years.

He’d wanted to see it again. He’d held Kya’s tunic close to him and prayed to every Spirit he could name that he’d see Katara and Sokka again, safe and unharmed. Instead, he got it wrapped around a Firebenders wrist like it was some sort of _trophy._

If the boy had Katara’s necklace around his wrist, did the girl get Sokka’s boomerang to hang on her wall?

“Chief,” Kustaa started, rising to stare at him, cup forgotten in his hands. Ranalok glanced between him and the necklace, seemingly in shock.

“This is my mother’s necklace. Kya’s necklace. Katara’s necklace. Where did you get this?” He snarled, tugging the boy's wrist until he fell from the bed and onto the floor.

The Prince had been to his home. He’d done enough damage to return safe and unharmed with Katara’s necklace wrapped around his wrist. Had he stopped at their village, or had he taken however many warships _Ozai_ allowed his son and wiped the South Pole of her people? How many Nobles could he woo with trumped-up tales of ridding the world of _savages?_

And Hakoda had been here, on a ship in the middle of the ocean with letters from Generals that thought them nothing more than heavily armed children and an empty hammock that had once belonged to his best friend. He’d been here, trying to end the war, and he wasn’t home when they needed them. He hadn’t protected his family, even though that was all he ever tried to do.

“Chief,” Kustaa was edging towards him, “He’s not all there right now, and he’s hurting really bad. You can try to get answers from him now, but I don’t think you’ll like the ones you get. Or you can try to keep him alive. You can’t do both.”

The boy was on his knees, trying to press his forehead to the ground even with his arm held in the air. He wasn’t even fighting Hakoda’s grip on him. He was muttering something, loud enough to hear if Hakoda cared to listen, as fast and steady as a prayer and practiced like he’d done it a thousand times before.

****

Zuko’s shoulder _burned_. The pulled muscles jerked and kept taut as Father ground the bones in his wrist together. Father was angry, Father was always angry with him for one slight or another, but he couldn’t remember what he’d done. But Father’s grip wasn’t too bad so it – it couldn’t have been _too_ bad, whatever he’d done this time. Maybe Father would tell him what he’d done so he could do better. He always tried to do better but it was never _enough._ He’d gotten better at hiding his swords, he’d gotten better at paying attention to the tutors so they wouldn’t have to repeat themselves, and–

And Father shouldn’t even be here. He’d sent Zuko away.

(It didn’t matter. It never did.)

Uncle was there, and Uncle was watching and seemed to be talking to Father, but he wouldn’t help. He never did, he always just… stood to the side, or wasn’t even there in the first place. Father was the Fire Lord, and Father was his father, so he was never _wrong._ And Uncle knew that. Uncle was Loyal. Uncle knew how to fit seamlessly into his own skin, unlike Zuko. He knew his place.

Unlike Zuko.

Zuko tried, but he was always pushing at the boundaries of was he was supposed to be even though he didn’t mean to. And the boundaries kept pressing in, kept changing, and it was _so hard_ to keep up when no one would explain things to him. No one would tell him what he should or shouldn’t do so he kept trying but he kept _screwing up,_ so he needed to be taught so he could _learn._

It was his fault, it was always his fault, but the rules were always changing. It came so easily to everyone else, so no one thought to explain the rules to him. Azula never broke the rules, so it had to just be _him,_ and Father never actually explained what he’d done _wrong–_

“I’m sorry, I’m your loyal son, I didn’t mean to disappoint you, I’m loyal, Father, I won’t do it again”

It didn’t help. His begging never did, it always just made things worse. And that was fitting, begging was weak.

Father tightened his grip, so tight it felt like he’d burned him but there were no actual flames.

He wasn’t in too much trouble if there were no flames, right?

Then Father just… let him go. Father let him go and tore the necklace from his wrist, and why did he have a necklace there? He jerked his hand down and bowed, properly, like he had all his life. His wrist and shoulder screamed, but he couldn’t rise up, couldn’t look up, because the last time he’d looked up all he’d seen was his Father’s hand filled with flames and he saw that enough as it was in his sleep, he didn’t want to see it _again–_

****

Hakoda was disgusted. The boy curled up into a bow and spoke to him like he was his father, and what kind of father would want his own son to fear him? To cower at his feet like a kicked puppy. What kind of _man–_

The Fire Lord. The Genocidal Maniac hell-bent on burning the world to the ground, raising a song that _apparently_ has no qualms about doing the same.

But the cool feeling of the pendant pressing into his palm evaporated any sympathies he might have for the boy before him. Regardless of his home life, he’d gone to the – already crippled – Southern Water Tribe and left his children either dead or dying. If he were any less of a man, he’d murder the Prince where he knelt.

Healer Kustaa was silent, his gaze without judgment as it flickered from the boy to Hakoda. Ranalok had a hard look in his eye, the same one that came when they were hunting down escape rafts after a successful battle. The girl was still sitting on the floor, as still and silent as a corpse.

Hakoda took a deep breath. He shook his head, “don’t tell the crew he’d been South. We need to know more before we take any action.”

“Of course. And… the siblings?”

“Try to keep them alive, one of them, at least. I have questions for them.”

Kustaa waited until the Chief had left, the room a tense silence after the door clicked shut. He sighed, setting the half-empty cup on the table. “Come on, brat,” he helped the teenager up off the floor. “Back to bed with you, I guess it’s my turn since you seem so focused on making everyone want to strangle you.”

“Hey, Kustaa,” Ranalok spoke up from the floor. “These two can’t be more than, what, three or four years older than the Chief’s kids? I haven’t seen a Fire Nation soldier under the age of, what, eighteen?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure the Fire Nation has a minimum age for Military Service.”

“Do you really think a couple of teenagers could do that much damage? Even Fire Nation, they… I know I couldn’t stomach killing someone at eighteen, so what do you think they did to get that necklace?”

Kustaa sighed, sliding next to the Prince who let himself be guided to the bed without a single complaint. “I don’t know. I’d like to think that the Fire Nation values its honor enough to not attack a defenseless outpost, but we both know that that’s not true. We’ll just have to wait until they wake up.”

The Firebender buried his face in Kustaa’s shirt. The boy was shaking now, not shivering. It wasn’t a distinction Kustaa was particularly fond of. The girl was back to being buried in furs.

“If,” Ranalok corrected as he laid back down.

Right, _if._

****

Hakoda placed the necklace on his desk, next to his continually blank ransom note. The dark blue stood out against the light wood, and he found he couldn’t look at anything else. He tucked the paper away.

He wouldn’t get a ransom if the boy died, so there was no need to write to Ozai just yet. He’d have to eventually, he was sure, Firebenders had the annoying habit of not dying unless they wanted too. Or unless something– someone– took fate into their own hands. They were like the spider roaches that could eat a ship from the inside out, in that way.

He’d write to Ozai once the siblings survived their illnesses and Hakoda’s questioning.

He wasn’t going to waste ink on that kind of ‘if.’

He’d left the village to keep his family safe. To keep Katara young, even though she’d grown up so fast after her mother's death. To keep Sokka from tearing himself apart, even though he’d been so willing to give his life for their cause.

He thought he’d been sacrificing his life to keep his village safe.

Who knew it wasn’t his life he’d been sacrificing.

****

Both teens lived. The girl was as still as ever, shallow breaths and an ever-steadying pulse the only signs she was still alive. Their temperatures dragged themselves upwards into a normal range, then higher still to a Firebenders throughout the day. Then overnight, in spikes and spurts, the boys continued to rise until he was feverish and sweating, then hot enough that the sweat steamed the minute it would bead. Healer Kustaa figured they had a feverish Firebender on their hands but had no idea what the non-fatal range was for those who naturally burned hotter.

Feverish or not, the boys escape attempts started the moment Kustaa left him alone to make his report.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! So, I have decided, thanks to a friendly commenter, that I will be updating by midnight on Wednesdays, PDT. That being said, because we live in a hellscape of a world and I have no idea what day it is 90% of the time, and the fact that I’m a college student with the ability to procrastinate Death out of sheer force of will, I may not stick to this deadline! If this happens, feel free to bully me in the comments or on Tumblr Until I do update! I will most likely have a bullshit excuse, and I promise I won’t get annoyed if you ask me about updates or ideas! (But I know a lot of authors do so be respectful of their time ;) )


	3. The Small Child is Annoying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And finally, we break away from Salvage Canon. There are escape attempts, a few friendly conversations, and the awakening of a previously comatose Princess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it in! I have been writing since... noon today? And it's currently 8 pm, but I did it! 
> 
> Also, I write this on my laptop and I read on my phone, so I am so sorry if you're reading this on mobile I am so long-winded, oh God

The Prince really shouldn’t have been able to pull the first escape off. There were several reasons for this, the most notable being that it had been in broad daylight and that half-dead teenagers shouldn’t be able to carry a whole ‘nother person out of their room and up a flight of stairs. It was in the morning when he’d disappeared from the infirmary, both his and his sister's furs folded over like a particularly respectful guest would make a bed.

They didn’t find them until half past noon. They had curled up like a pair of polar bear pups in their den, hidden under a tarp between the ship’s longboat and her whaler. The fact that they’d done this right under the noses of the deck crew wasn’t something that Hakoda took lightly.

Said Deck Crew was more than interested in repaying the royalty for all the trouble they’d caused. They were less interested when one of the targets of their _affections_ kept putting himself in between them and his sister with smooth, practiced movements. Like he could do it in his sleep. He _was_ doing it in his sleep, which would have been less concerning if he’d bothered to stay awake to defend himself. 

Healer Kustaa shook his head at the boy’s new bruises and tucked him and his sister into the same bed. He made sure to lock the door whenever he was needed elsewhere. The Prince didn’t wake until Sundown, confused, and shooting glares at Kustaa even as he curled closer to his sister. The Princess was still unconscious, her face smooth and without worry. She looked sweet, especially compared to the growly badger-viper she had for a brother.

The growly badger-viper that seemed to have no qualms about riling up every person he came into contact with. Or had any clue as to how close he was to toeing the line of _not making it off of this ship._

“You’re going to eat before you go back to sleep,” Kustaa said, bringing two bowls of broth over.

The boy’s glare was impressive for someone hell-bent on impersonating a polar bear puppy, buried in furs with no intention of leaving his nest. It was ironic, really. When they needed him to stay under the blankets, it had been a struggle and a half to get him to stay there. Now, when he was in danger of cooking his brain like a freshly caught sea prune, it was a wonder that he hadn’t dragged both of their furs with them onto the deck.

“You look nothing like my Uncle.”

“Never said I did. Now, eat. I’ll help your sister.”

Perhaps he should’ve left the other bowl on the burner. The boy grumbled and glared, but for all his bravo he still accepted the help in sitting up and holding the bowl to his lips. Spirits knew how fast the broth would’ve ended up in his lap, with how badly the boy’s hands were shaking. Still, despite the, honestly warranted, help, the boy seemed to cringe in embarrassment, while holding his head as high as he could manage. Fire Nation teenagers, it seemed, were the exact opposite from Water Tribe teenagers. Fire Nation teens seemed to fit several degrees more pride into a several size smaller body.

It was fitting, considering the nature of Fire and Water.

The Prince was drowning in blue fabric. His glare increased with every time he had to pull the collar back onto his shoulder. Which was… pretty much constantly. Kustaa almost wanted to see how much harder the Prince could glare, maybe there was a world record in the making.

If the Prince was drowning in fabric, the Princess was positively engulfed. They had pinned the back so it would stay on her shoulders, but the shirt almost reached her knees. It was more of a dress, really, but it wasn’t the kind of dress Kustaa was comfortable seeing a teenage girl in.

“Get at least a day’s rest before you try that again, okay?” Kustaa switched out the empty bowl for the full one and shifted the Princess into a sitting position. “Doctors orders.”

“Okay,” the boy said, already nodding off.

Kustaa was joking. The Prince, it turned out, was not.

****

Kustaa had practically been hand feeding both prisoners the entire day. The boy had been out of it, barely awake even for meals. The girl still hadn’t moved. Kustaa was starting to worry that her condition may be permanent. Even with one comatose patient and another unable to hold his own bowl, the crew began checking the infirmary door every time they walked past. Sailors’ superstitions, and all.

Unfortunately, that didn’t stop the next escape attempt.

The room had a porthole, which was, apparently, just the right size for a Crown Prince to climb out of, carrying his little sister. This wasn’t considered an option until the dog started barking. Scuttles had been doing his duty of gnawing off barnacles and any other potentially unsavory characters, like sea-slug-termites or, _apparently,_ Firebending royalty.

Firebending royalty that somehow knew how to scale vertical walls with nothing but his fingers and stupid, Princely determination.

The night watch held a lantern over the railing in disbelief. The isopuppy continued to express his displeasure.

“Will you call it _off_ ,” the Prince growled. Making demands really must’ve been second nature, seeing as he did it naturally while hanging from his fingernails off of a near-seamless vertical wall with his sister slung over his shoulder like a sack of potato-parsnips.

The isopup didn’t get called off. Instead, it snapped at the boy’s leg, barely missing the skin under his oversized pants. That seemed to snap the boy out of his growly irateness, and he scrambled up the side of the ship, somehow managing to move not much slower than the dog at his heels. He stopped just before the edge of the ship, looking back at the ocean like he was deliberating how high on his list of options ‘ _freezing to death in the ocean_ ’ ranked.

Aake cut his deliberation short, grabbing him by the scruff of his shirt and hauling him onto the deck like a particularly growly puppy-kitten. The kid wrapped both arms around his sister as he was listed, holding her to his chest. Aake pinned his arms there before he could move them to inflict more bruises. A couple of hours in the infirmary with the brat followed by a day full of mockery was more than enough to learn a lesson. 

When Hakoda got to the deck, the kid was squirming in Aake’s arms. Whether he was trying to get out or trying to avoid the dog wasn’t clear.

“And… how did he get out?” Hakoda sighed.

“The Porthole, we think,” Aake answered, tightening his grip as the kid jerked both of his feet off of the ground. The girl was still held securely to his chest. The isopup followed his movement, taking another scrap of fabric and adding another line of red.

“Scuttles! Down.” Hakoda ordered. Which didn’t make a lick of difference. Two years in Hakoda’s care and the dog still didn’t know his own name. He had, at one point, but had been corrupted by his crew. Hakoda refused to use the nickname they had come up with. He whistled, and the dog grudgingly pattered over to his side. The Fire Prince relaxed, sagging in Aake’s arms as his bare feet touched the wood. Ranalok quietly moved to ease the Princess out of his arms.

Ranalok got the girl halfway into the air before the kid seemed to realize what was happening. And then it became _very_ apparent that he had been trying to get away from the dog earlier.

Between one second and the next, the Prince had slammed his head back into Aake’s nose and bodily thrown himself towards Ranalok. With a curse, Aake let go of the Prince. And then all hell broke loose.

It was funny, looking back. Ranalok holding the sleeping girl and trying to evade a boy half his size, who was charging at him like a Komodo Rhino. Then the crew jumped into action, attempting to restrain the Prince long enough for them to catch their breaths or break their falls.

Eventually, he rammed into Ranalok, tearing the girl from his grip and falling to the ground. He quickly pushed himself back towards the rails, trying to keep the crew in his line of sight.

“He’d be less trouble with a broken leg, Chief,” Aake said after a long moment, holding his nose.

The Prince didn’t process the words right away, panting as he held his sister close. His eyes darted around the crew like a cornered leopard hare.

“My leg is fine,” he said, in the moment before he got it.

Hakoda could see when it dawned on the Prince. He ran his hand thoughtfully over the isopuppy’s carapace, he had been such a _good boy_. Child abuse was never something to be proud of and wasn’t something Hakoda would’ve even considered three years ago. But the Prince wasn’t a child, he had been given a ship and had terrorized Hakoda’s home. He might’ve even burnt it to the ground. If the Fire Nation didn’t consider him a child, then Hakoda wouldn’t either.

The Prince _snarled_ , curling his arms around his sister and distorting the non-scarred side of his face into an ugly display of pure rage. “You can’t! You– you _savages_!”

The Prince then picked up the girl and dove for the side of the ship. The crew lunged for him, and Tuluk snagged him by the shirt. The Prince dropped his sister and slipped out of the shirt, then attempted to take off across the deck with the girl halfway in his arms. He had obviously tired himself out with the first mad scramble across the deck, though, because he was less fighting them than playing a very aggressive game of _leopard seal and otter penguin_. He was running and dodging, and honestly, a half-dead teenager should _not_ be this good at fending off opponents from all sides. He seemed to be getting desperate, though, because between him tripping Toklo over his own feet and squaring up against Aake, he’d set his sister on the ground (more gently this time) and had settled into a stance they were much more accustomed to.

It probably should’ve been obvious to all involved that Firebending while feverish wasn’t a good idea, but the only thing that had come out of the Prince’s fist had been a puff of smoke, and then he’d dropped to the ground next to his sister.

Aake quickly pinned the Prince to the ground but wrenched back with a curse. He snagged the Prince’s discarded shirt off of the deck and used it as a buffer between him and the kid’s overheated skin. The Prince squirmed in Aake’s grip, trying to pull his legs under him and worm his way over to his sister at the same time. The Princess hadn’t twitched as much as a finger the entire time.

“Chief?” Aake asked, blood still sluggishly draining out of his nose.

Hakoda really wanted to nod. The kid had been a menace and had wasted more time than they could spare. Plus he should’ve known that there would be consequences for two escape attempts in as many days.

But he couldn’t. There was an entire crew of grown men closing in on a teenager whose only priority seemed to be protecting his sister. If he allowed this, if he condoned this, he didn’t know if he could ever look Sokka and Katara in the eyes. He didn’t know if he would ever see Sokka and Katara again.

“Bring them to my office. Both of them, I don’t think he’d do well being separated. With his legs intact, please.” He crossed his arms and stared down the Prince. “If you have enough energy for this, you have enough energy to answer my questions.”

The boy carried his sister downstairs to Hakoda’s office, and they pressed both of them into the chair across from Hakoda’s desk. And then they were alone. Save for the scratching of Scuttles’ fore-pods against the door and the creak of footsteps on the deck above, it was silent. Hakoda waited. It took less time than he would’ve expected, but the Prince did some sort of controlled breathing exercise and sat up in the chair like it was a seat on a war council. He held his sister in his arms like he was ready to bolt at any moment.

“What was your plan, exactly?”

“Plan?” The Prince sounded immeasurably confused at the question, which was an answer in and of itself.

Hakoda took a breath, and let it out very, very slowly. _He has a head wound. And a fever… And my daughter's necklace._

“Where did you get this?” He motioned towards the blue ribbon lying innocuously on the desk. He’d barely been able to get any work done that day, he’d been distracted by it. Just sitting there, reminding him of all he’d lost.

“I didn’t _steal_ it,” the boy spat, about ten decibels higher than the size of the room required. It sounded like a continuation of an argument that Hakoda wasn’t a part of. “The stupid waterbender dropped it on the prison rig.”

Hakoda stopped breathing. The words ‘ _waterbender’_ and ‘ _prison’_ in the same sentence shot through his heart. Especially since the waterbender in question was his _daughter._

“Is she alive?”

“Huh? Yeah, she’s alive.” The fever glazed back over the boy’s eyes, and his grip on his sister loosened. “She was sick though. I mean, I’m pretty sure she was sick. _He_ said she was sick. And he had _frogs_ in his shirt? Why would he have frogs in his shirt?”

Healer Kustaa didn’t need to be there to explain that the kid was still delirious. The ‘ _she’s alive’_ shouldn’t have steadied his heartbeat, especially since the kid wasn’t all there, but it did. It did, but he couldn’t hold onto a prisoner's fever dream like it was the last thing keeping him afloat.

“You’re going back to the Healer’s room,” Hakoda stood. “And you’re staying there, or there will be _consequences_. Am I clear?”

The Prince tightened his grip on his sister, doubling down on the glare that had slipped off of his face in his delirium. Hakoda gripped his shoulder and marched him back to Kustaa.

They weren’t taking any more chances. There was a watch set, _inside_ the room. The kid looked unnervingly like a tiger seal pup, golden eyes glaring out from the pile of furs while the tribesman glared back. 

“No more bending. Not until your fever breaks, at least. Your brain’s already frying inside that thick skull of yours.” Healer Kustaa said, changing out the damp cloth on his forehead. The first one had steam-dried fast enough to both fascinate and unnerve the healer. The girl shifted a little in her sleep. “No more escape attempts until then, either.”

“… okay,” the boy’s attention was wholly on his sister.

It was understood by both parties that neither was joking.

****

Zuko woke up bathed in moonlight. Something shifted next to him, but he couldn’t quite place what it was. His head was clearer than it had been in… he didn’t even know how long. He hadn’t been able to track the rising and falling of the sun since the crew had fished him out of the water. He couldn’t count the days, but he could _count_ again, so his fever must’ve broken. He was disgusting and sweaty, the bed was too _hot,_ and the person next to him shifted _again,_ and–

_Azula._

He turned to face her, putting his back to the too awake guard by the door. He turned her towards him, and she scrunched her nose at the movement. She blearily blinked her eyes open, and honestly, he could’ve cried at the confused glare she shot his way. She huffed, burying her face in the pillow in a way she hadn’t done since childhood.

She didn’t seem to be in pain, though. That was good because he could feel bruises he _distinctly_ remembered not having the last time he’d been fully conscious. Water Tribe hospitality may be less than stellar, and that was including beating unconscious teenagers, but at least they’d left Azula alone. Maybe Father _wouldn’t_ burn their homes to the ground if she was returned to him unharmed.

He just needed to get them off of this ship before they realized that she was semi-lucid too.

The few things he did remember, very clearly, were a burning grip on his wrist and a threat: another escape attempt would have consequences.

There were flashes of other things, of course. The man’s cold, blue eyes as he contemplated letting his crew break Zuko’s legs. The necklace from the waterbender dangled in front of his face like it _meant_ something. The pain in his knees and shoulder as he’d begged– (Agni, he had _begged_ an enemy for mercy. Father was right, he really was weak.)

He pulled his wrist out of the blankets and stared at it. He could tell it was a handprint, if he stared hard enough, a broken ring of blacks and greens smeared across the skin. He tried to imagine the same thing on Azula’s wrist, and the thought made him sick.

The Chief was _not_ his Father, and he needed to get them off of this boat.

****

The third escape attempt was found out when the Night Shift went to replace the guard. They found him knocked out cold, a half-empty cup of tea on the table next to him. His key was gone and had been used to _re-lock_ the door from the outside. The strangest thing about it, though, was that the Princess was still curled up in the blankets.

He’d never left her alone before.

Healer Kustaa told Hakoda that the kid's fever had broken sometime mid-afternoon, but he’d thought, in his professional opinion, that he could use a night of sleep before the _interrogations_ began.

They were cut off by a sleepy murmur coming from the pile of furs.

_Great, now we’ve got two firebending teenagers to deal with instead of just one._

They checked everywhere. They checked the boats and the hold and the kitchens, but no stowaways popped up. In the two years they’d been at sea the size of the boat had seemed to shrink month by month. All of that shrinkage disappeared with the efforts of _one_ enemy on the loose. There were so many spots he could hide, so many things he could burn.

Hakoda was going to murder the Prince. When he got his answers, he was going to murder him. But they needed to _find_ him first.

“Chief,” Toklo called, but not loud enough to carry. Hakoda glanced at him, and the youngest crewman shifted his eyes upwards.

The shadows of the sails blended in with the dark of the night sky. The stars barely illuminated the edges of the mast. But in those shadows, there was one that shouldn’t be there.

The Prince had climbed their mainmast and perched himself on the crossbeam like some kind of entitled seagull-rooster. It was as high as he possibly could’ve climbed, and higher than any _normal_ human being would possibly be comfortable with. There was a _firebender_ on their main mast.

Hakoda was going to kill him. As soon as he’d convinced him to _pretty please_ _not start any fires up there_ and to _come down so they could talk,_ he was going to murder him.

****

Zuko had to get Azula out. He’d been the one to trust the crew in the first place, and it was his fault they were now trapped on an enemy ship somewhere in the middle of the ocean. It was his responsibility to get her to safety. And he wasn’t… he didn’t know if she would do the same in reverse, but that was okay. Mother had made him promise a long time ago that he would take care of his little sister.

‘ _it’s an older brother's duty to care, Zuko_ ’ she always said, even when Azula started getting mean, or when she’d rather spend time with Mai and Ty Lee than him.

Plus, Azula had Father’s favor. He would be angry if Zuko let anything happen to her, especially if it was Zuko’s fault. It didn’t matter what happened to him, but Azula wasn’t even supposed to be on the Wani in the first place. She was supposed to be at home, training with Father, and _not_ speaking out at War meetings.

He had to get her out, but as he crept up the stairs and peered out onto the deck, his heart sank. There were so many people, crewmembers all over the place, especially by the boats. Had he gone for those already? He couldn’t remember.

One of the larger crew members, the one who had offered to _break_ his _leg_ , started walking towards where he was hiding. He needed to get out, he needed to run, but there was nowhere to go, and time was running out, and _no one was paying attention._

He didn’t panic. He just did the only sensible thing one could do in that situation. He couldn’t go back to the infirmary, they’d know he was the one who drugged the guard. He couldn’t go for the ocean, it had been so _cold_ and Azula was barely awake, she couldn’t swim. He just needed time to _think–_

He bolted across the deck, keeping low and quiet like he used to do when avoiding Father when he was in one of his moods, which was _always_.

He climbed the mast.

****

Azula woke up alone. She was warm, in a bed that was much too comfortable with blankets that were much too heavy to belong on the Wani. Father never had cared that much about their comfort. She’d been having the _weirdest_ dream, with Zuko leaning over her and rambling some _nonsense_ about the Water Tribes, and storms, and boats, and–

“Ah, so you’re awake,” a pleasant, yet oddly familiar voice considering she’d never heard it before disturbed her thinking.

Ah, not a dream then.

“Do you remember what happened?”

“You mean the storm?” She sniffed dismissively, “I assume you’re a healer of some sort?”

“Of some sort,” he laughed good-naturedly, much like her Uncle always did. She pushed herself up, scanning the room. There was a lockable door, a porthole large enough to climb through, and a frankly pathetic collection of herbs lining the shelves. “Do you, by any chance, have an idea where your brother disappeared to?”

“…Brother?” She tilted her head, hiding her irritation with the smile that had stopped convincing Mother she was innocent when she was four.

“Yes, you are Princess Azula of the Fire Nation, aren’t you?” the man smiled, “and your brother, Crown Prince Zuko?”

Of course. Of course, the dum-dum would give up their identities. Agni only knew what the Water Tribe _peasants_ were planning on doing with them now.

“My _brother_ is an idiot. And why would I help you find him anyways? Maybe he’s found a way off of this fire hazard.”

“And leave you behind? I doubt it. He certainly hasn’t done that the last two times he tried to escape. And speaking of escaping, the Chief told your brother there would be… consequences if he were to try again. If you help us find him, you may be able to get him out of trouble.” He poured a steaming pot of _something_ into a cup. It didn’t smell like any of the tea’s Uncle drank, and he practically had a collection. “And I’d be careful who you call an idiot, my dear, your brother is the reason you’re alive.”

The not-tea was some kind of heated berry juice, fragrant, and just a touch too hot.

“What kind of ship is this again?”

“It’s called the Akhlut, it’s a warship from the Southern Water Tribe.”

She hummed, taking another sip of the not-tea.

“Have you checked the mast?”

****

The men were filling up buckets of water. Filling them up like it would make a lick of difference if their resident Firebender decided to start a fire at the _top_ of their sails.

“Prince Zuko,” he called. “We know you’re there. We won't hurt you, come down.”

The Prince didn’t reply, but Tuluk snorted quietly. The top of the sails was still dark, not even a spark in sight. He was overwhelmingly relieved that the Prince wasn’t using his leverage, but still, he’d like to have more of an idea of what he was working with that the vague shifts of shadows.

“We could try shooting him down?” Tuluk offered, except they both knew that no one on the Akhlut was that good of a shot.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” came a breezy, extremely unexpected, and _very_ female voice from behind them. Neither he nor Tuluk jumped, because they were seasoned warriors, thank you very much, but it was definitely a shock to see the, previously comatose, Princess of the Fire Nation glaring at them.

Hakoda refrained, just barely, from rubbing his temples.

“You’re going to have to climb up and get him.” Her voice was calm, but it was laced with a biting undercurrent of fire and venom.

“Your Highness,” he turned with a rather strained smile. “Please let _us_ deal with your brother.”

The Princess’ gaze sharpened on him, and _oh, wow,_ he really preferred it when she was unconscious. She continued to glare, but he turned and shouted up at the Prince before she could respond.

“If you’re not coming down, then I’m coming up. I just want to _talk_.”

Tuluk raised an eyebrow at him, and he didn’t bother to turn and see what kind of face the Princess was making. He’d always been a passable liar, but apparently yelling at Fire Nation royalty forty feet in the air made him a little more growly than usual.

Hakoda started climbing. The rigging was flammable, the ship was flammable, _he_ was flammable, and still he was climbing the mast towards a firebender with no available hands for weapons or self-defense.

The Prince scooted over, giving Hakoda ample room to clamber onto the crossbeam and sit without getting anywhere near the kid. He stared the kid down, and he returned the look with a glare that held no signs of fever or delirium. But where the Princess’ glare was sharp and pointed, the Prince’s glare was a flat layer of anger and mistrust.

If the kid could take out some of the best fighters in his crew while barely conscious, how much more damage could he do if he actually meant it?

He sat on the crossbeam and balanced, trying very hard not to look down. He asked the question he’d been wanting an answer for since the Prince took off the first time and hid under the Whaler.

“what was your plan?”

****

Zuko barely managed to choke back the words ‘ _I don’t know, Uncle!’_ he hated it. And he hated the question even more.

“To get my sister off of this stupid ship,” he spat.

 _That is not a plan, Nephew_ the ever unhelpful voice of Uncle whispered in his head.

“By… leaving her in the healer's room and climbing the mast?” The man seemed honestly confused, which, was fair considering the circumstances. It only helped to stoke Zuko’s temper more.

“Well, I didn’t _mean_ to climb the mast! I was gonna get a boat and then she was supposed to climb out of the window, but it _obviously_ didn’t work.” He was talking himself into a corner again, and the man’s confusion was slowly morphing into a more familiar expression. He’d seen it enough on Father’s face to know it on anyone. “And now we’re stuck on this ship, and she’s awake, and you’re probably just going to _kill_ me but Agni knows what you’re gonna do to her–”

The Chief’s face flipped from anger to horror faster than Zuko could process.

“ _No one_ is going to put a hand on your sister, Prince Zuko.” And… and that was the truth. It shouldn’t have been surprising, no one had ever hurt Azula, not in the ways they hurt him, but it was still a shock to hear the words. “And we’re not going to kill you.”

Now that was a lie. Zuko couldn’t tell from the words, he’d never been able to. But the man’s eyes were cold, they shifted from something soft to sharp between the two sentences and he knew. They wouldn’t hurt Azula, but he was here at the top of the sails, stuck between a man who hadn’t hesitated to let Zuko think they were going to break his legs and a forty-foot drop. Maybe the ocean would be kinder.

“We’re not… we’re not _enemies_. Me and Azula have our own mission, just let us _go._ We won’t report you to our fleet, just–”

It was exactly like talking to Father had been. Or talking to Azula in the year right after Mom left. He kept rambling on like an _idiot_ , just stacking the deck against him while they collected whatever bits of ammunition he dropped. Azula was always better at this, she never said things she shouldn’t, she never spoke out of turn. Zuko never knew what anyone wanted him to say.

****

The Prince… was shockingly uneloquent, considering his position. He rambled on, talking himself in circles. He even dared to use the phrase ‘ _we’re not enemies.’_ He stayed quiet, letting the boy spill whatever secrets pressed against his lips. He let the silence settle a bit before speaking again.

“Have you ever been to the South Pole, Prince Zuko?”

“Um… yes?” He blinked in confusion, his eyes practically glowing in the darkness. Of course, he wouldn’t get it, he’s a Prince.

****

“Just the Wani,” Zuko said, with the dawning realization that they were having two _very_ different conversations. He needed to catch up to the Chief’s soon, or the Ocean was going to be looking more of a probability than a possibility.

“Did you visit any villages?”

“one.” He gripped the beam under him, scraping the wood with his fingernails. _He didn’t know where the trap was, he never knew where the trap was–_

“How many did you kill?”

“How many… What?” Zuko gripped the beam harder. The ocean was looking like a pretty good choice compared to the… _displeasure_ of the Chief.

“Why is my daughter in a Fire Nation _prison,_ Prince Zuko?”

“Your…? She did that to herself!”

Oh, wrong answer. Wrong answer wrong answer _wronganswer._ He should’ve quit while he was ahead because now the Chief was really going to kill him, but he’s so _stupid._

****

“Your Highness,” Hakoda was making a valiant effort to _not_ throw the prisoner off of the mast. “You and your sister are valuable hostages. We won’t kill you unless so give us reason to, so there’s no need for you to _lie_.”

The Prince jumped to his feet. The Prince of the Fire Nation jumped to his feet at the top of a mainsail, swaying in the breeze, with no support, _forty feet in the air._

“I’m not lying!” flames followed his fingertips as he gestured wildly, seemingly desperate for Hakoda to believe him. Sparks floated down towards Hakoda, but none of them caught. The Prince was still yelling. “Our mission is to capture the Avatar! We aren’t supposed to be dealing with Water Tribe savages. We wouldn’t have even bothered your village if the Avatar hadn’t been there, and they were hiding him, so they brought it on themselves! And I– we didn’t _hurt_ anybody, we just scared them so they’d give me the Avatar. I’m not like _you_ , I don’t threaten unarmed people when they’re on their knees, and it was just a bunch of old people and children anyways! we scared them, we got the Avatar, and we left. That’s it. And I didn’t even go back when the Avatar broke his word, so– so stop blaming me for things I didn’t do!”

“Why don’t… we have this conversation in my office…” How does one talk an angry teenager down from the mainmast? Or from setting their sails on fire? A teenager who, apparently, thinks the _avatar_ was hiding in Hakoda’s village. Maybe the fever did more damage than they thought.

A teenager who honestly believed that he was no different than the children he’d been terrorizing. A teenager who believed he was absolved of all wrongdoing. A Fire Nation soldier who thought he hadn’t don’t anything wrong.

“You’re climbing down,” Hakoda ordered. His men always listened to him when he used that voice, and he’d hardly ever had to use it on Sokka and Katara, but when he had it had worked wonders. “Now. We will continue this discussion with your sister–”

“No.”

Great, just great. The Fire Prince was a teenager and apparently decided that now was the time to act like it.

“I’m not going to let you break my leg, or… or whatever those consequences are.”

“You can’t stay up here forever.”

“Try me.” And now instead of a teenager, the Prince was acting like a Toddler. And a petulant one at that.

He was clutching his wrist, the one that had held Katara’s necklace not that long ago. But his hand, much like the rest of him, was smaller than Hakoda’s. It couldn’t hide the bruise underneath.

The Prince was still young. He hadn’t been thinking of leverage, or blackmail, or burning Hakoda’s ship to the ground. He’d have used it by now if he had. The boy had been frightened of the crew on the deck and had gotten away from them the quickest way possible. And now he was too frightened to come back down.

It must’ve been a pattern if his sister had known where to look so quickly. Since she’d known he wouldn’t come down of his own accord.

“My men won’t hurt you or your sister. You have my word.”

“And what about you?” The boy's grip strained against the bruise. It probably hurt.

“If you answer my questions, I won’t have to.”

“You won’t get anything about the Fire Nation,” the Prince steeled his gaze and hefted his chin. Hakoda could see his jaw clenching, even in the darkness.

“I’m more interested in the South Pole. And my daughter.”

“I’m _not_ going down first.”

Hakoda sighed and started climbing down. A few moments later, leaving enough of a gap that Hakoda couldn’t reach him if he tried, the Prince followed.

****

The whole crew was staring at him, silent and tense like this was a funeral. And then there was Azula, so much smaller than everyone around her and draped in the blankets from the infirmary. She still carried herself like a princess, though. She wore the furs around her shoulders like ceremonial robes, and all of the Tribesmen were giving her a wide berth, which would’ve been a lot funnier if there wasn’t that _dog–_

He was halfway up the mast again before anyone could blink. The Chief was prying the dog’s legs out of the wood, and Azula was _laughing_ at him.

Another laugh rang out, too loud and too low to be Azula, but it was obviously pointed at _him._ He was going to light something– some _one_ – on fire if he ever found out who it was. He glared at them, letting his hands slip and sliding down the mast in a way that would make Uncle always shout _‘Nephew, please, the rungs are not there for decoration.’_

The Water Tribesmen around him flinched at the speed, the same way the crew always did on the Wani. All except for Azula, that is. She just rolled her eyes and sneered, saying he was always being so _dramatic._ He was not dramatic, he reacted the perfect amount for anyone in his situation.

Especially someone who was currently the second shortest person on the entire ship. It wasn’t like he was _short_ , he was perfectly average height for his age, and he was taller than Uncle anyways, but the Water Tribe Warriors were so _tall._ The Chief looked down on him, and it wasn’t even in a demeaning way, it just happened.

“Zu-Zu, Uncle always asked you not to do that,” Azula wrapped the oversized blanket tighter around her middle. He shifted his glare to his sister.

“What did I say?” The very-much-not-Uncle Doctor smiled, standing beside Azula.

“You’re not our Uncle!” The siblings shouted, whirling towards Kustaa. Well, Zuko shouted. Azula just… sneered the words at him. The man laughed, steadying a look towards Hakoda.

 _“_ Alright, if both of you are well enough to _shout,_ then you’re well enough to tell me what’s been happening.” Hakoda shook his head and motioned for them to follow him. _“_ Right this way, Your _Highness._ ”

Oh, he didn’t mean those words as he was supposed to. He bit them out like it was an effort he’d rather not be making. He even completed the mockery with a short little bow.

Azula didn’t follow the Chief, though. She didn’t even react to his jeering. She stared at Zuko instead, picking him apart like she always did. She lifted his hand in hers, studying his bruised wrist like it was a particularly interesting specimen. He remembers her having the same look when the palace pygmy-pumas had left a dead raven-sparrow on her pillow when she was seven.

The Chief had noticed that they weren’t following and turned to glare at them.

A particularly sharp smile twitched at Azula’s lips. The same smile she got when a crewmember from the Wani complained about his orders or insulted his honor within her hearing range. The smile usually came right before she marched up and _politely_ asked said crewmember if they’d spar with her.

They hadn’t been allowed to say no.

She turned and looked the Chief dead in the eyes, the smile growing larger. The crew started muttering and shifting around them, and she finally moved to follow the Chief.

If Azula was going to follow him, then so was he. Plus, he’d gotten the Chief’s word that they wouldn’t be hurt. The word of a savage. The word of the leader. The word of a _father–_

It was too late to try for the Ocean now, Azula would never let him live it down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm very tired, but my favorite interactions are coming up, so I'm Hyped. 
> 
> Go check out my Tumblr for sneak peeks!


	4. What A Young Girl Should Not Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hakoda, honey, you've got a big storm coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Finishing this early? It's more likely than you think. 
> 
> Anyways, massive thanks to the truly delightful comments I got to read this week, they made my day several times and got me thinking of a few future plot points.

The Chief led them to his office, bringing that _dog_ with him. He then sat behind his desk and stared at Zuko like he had something to answer for. He hadn’t given them permission to sit, so Zuko stood straight, meeting the Chief’s eyes like his crewmembers had always done when reporting to _him._ Azula, on the other hand, walked through the room like she owned it and gracefully, because she was always graceful, even twenty minutes after waking up from a _coma_ , sat in the chair across from the Chief.

_****_

His quarters were comfortable, a bed against the wall, and a desk near the porthole so he could look outside and pretend that the walls weren’t closing in on him after several hours of paperwork. There’s always more paperwork. They were nice, functional, though they probably seemed cramped to two Fire Nation Royalty.

The girl was sitting in the chair, one leg thrown over the other like this was a simple business meeting instead of an interrogation. The Fire Prince stood behind her, stiff-backed and shoulders tensed with his hands folded behind his back. The image of a perfect soldier. Even with the collar of his blue shirt slipping off of his shoulders, he made an impressive picture.

They had both been trained in intimidation tactics, apparently, because they both made direct eye contact with him. Their eyes a matching liquid gold. It was more unsettling when it was the two of them, if Hakoda was being honest.

Hakoda sighed, shaking his head so he wouldn’t have to keep staring down two Fire Nation predators.

“Start from the beginning,” he returned their glare, choosing to look at the Prince instead of the Princess. He was older, and obviously more battle worn, given the ginormous scar covering half off his face. The girl was unblemished, and he doubted that even the Fire Nation would send their teenage daughters into battle. She was probably just tagging along with her brother to explore the world before being given command of her own battalion.

“…what beginning?” The Prince asked, apparently hellbent on making this more difficult than it needed to be. Hakoda had promised he wouldn’t hurt him if he answered his questions, and here the Prince was, refusing to answer the most basic of questions.

The Princess scoffed, rolling her eyes like her brother’s stupidity had caused her physical harm.

****

What beginning? _What beginning?_ He hadn’t expected the Chief to be fair, he wasn’t naïve enough for that, but he wished that the Chief could have at least given him _one_ easy question before playing his mind games. Where was he supposed to start? When he’d followed Azula into the ocean? When they’d sailed into the village on the edge on the glacier, following the flair? When he got banished and dragged two of the most important people in his life, in the Fire Nation, down with him? What did that even mean, ‘ _start from the beginning_ ’?

The Chief expected an answer though. His glare was hardening, like Zuko was being willfully disobedient, like he had broken the rules instead of just asking for _clarification_ –

(It didn’t matter. The rules changed with the tides, and Zuko had never been able to follow them.)

The water tribe siblings made a little more sense now. No one would follow a complete stranger from one end of the world to the other, being hunted and tracked the entire time, out of the _goodness of their hearts_. This was their father. They probably wanted to prove themselves to him, seeing as he’d left them at home among the elderly, mothers, and children.

They’d done nothing more than ruin every chance Zuko had at going home, but he didn’t hate them enough to ruin this for them.

“Your son showed great bravery in defending his home against superior numbers,” the Chief immediately stilled, the tension in the room skyrocketing. Oh. Right. The Chief had kept mentioning his daughter, but he hadn’t even brought up the fact that he _had_ a son. He probably didn’t even care. It made sense. He could feel Azula’s judgement, but he _wasn’t_ going to ruin this for them. “And… And your daughter, ah. She–”

“What my brother is _trying_ to say,” Azula interrupted, exasperation leaking into her voice. He practically sagged in relief when it became apparent that she was going to take over. She’d always been better at the whole _people_ thing. “Is that we have been tracking the Avatar.”

****

Hakoda needed a drink. The Avatar? They really thought he was going to fall for that? He’d already told them that they didn’t need to lie.

“…The Avatar?”

“Yes.” The Princess snapped, all imperial regalness with a touch of high-and-mighty attitude. “The Avatar, who was hiding in _your_ village until he and the waterbender set off an old Fire Nation flair.”

Now _that_ was just ridiculous. Someone would’ve sent word if his children had found the Avatar. If the Fire Nation had somehow found out, then he should’ve heard a long, long time ago.

Where the Prince had been unsure, hesitating, the Princess was direct. She chose her words and barbed them with iron and flames. he couldn’t even tell if she was lying. He didn’t know how to respond, and she knew it. Her voice remained the same fiery calm it had on the deck, but her smile was no longer razor sharp. A hint of that Fire Nation smugness flashed across her eyes.

Scuttles shot forewords, aiming at the Fire Prince. The young soldier backpedaled hard, tripping onto Hakoda’s bunk and shoving his pillow out as a shield. The Princess jumped to her feet, dropping the blankets and raising two fingers above her head.

“Azula, wait!” was heard over the snarling of the angry isopup. The princess paused, and he saw her gaze flick to him for a split second before she lowered her hand. She was still tense, still eyeing the dog attempting to maul her brother, but she wasn’t prepared to attack.

…and neither was the Prince. He was simply… holding the dog off. He wasn’t using fire. Or violence. And he hadn’t used them on the deck either.

He’d even stopped his sister from using them.

Hakoda walked over, picked the isopup up, and carefully shooed it out of the porthole. He sat back down and motioned for the siblings to do the same. The boy was still holding the pillow as a shield, like he was expecting Hakoda to come over and continue the assault. The girl was sending him the _iciest_ glare Hakoda had ever been on the receiving end of. It sent shivers down his spine.

“I gave you both my word. Keep your end, and I’ll keep mine. Now _please_.”

The siblings didn’t relax, but they did seem to have a silent conversation in the moment between Hakoda speaking and them returning to their previous positions. The soldier was a little less tense, his shoulders no longer stiff and held still. The girl hadn’t changed one bit, though, she still used the chair like it was her own personal throne.

The boy had flipped his pillow over, like that would make Hakoda forget that it was leaking feathers.

“What was your mission in the South Pole?” Hakoda asked.

The difference between the siblings quickly became apparent. The girl was calm and derisive, speaking as if she’d been giving battle reports since she could talk. She probably had, knowing the Fire Nation. The boy, on the other hand, only spoke when his indignation exploded at one of Hakoda’s remarks. He… did not talk like a practiced War Veteran. He was brash, and he spoke quickly, and he was _loud._

****

“I told you, we were tracking the Avatar. We saw a pillar of celestial light and followed it, then your daughter and the Avatar set off the signal flares. We found the village soon after.”

****

“No, no, we captured the Avatar, not the waterbender.”

“She attacked our ship, we didn’t attack her! Why would we even kidnap some random gross peasant girl– I mean, uh, young lady? She, ah–”

“She flew in on the flying bison to _rescue_ the Avatar. We left your village alone.”

****

“The Kyoshi Warriors are a group of highly trained female warriors taking after their namesake. Well, they should be. No, it wasn’t your daughter in the dress, which–”

“He must have made quite the impression to even be allowed– Of course he’s alive, why would you think– _I did not say that!_ ”

****

Hakoda held up a finger, staring at the desk to try and process what he was hearing. Despite their… _differences_ , the siblings’ stories matched up perfectly. One just had more words than the other. But one thing was becoming increasingly clear.

“Prince Zuko, are you trying to flatter my children?”

“ _No.”_

So there was another difference between the siblings. The Princess smiled at his words, an actual smile this time, like she was laughing at her brother.

Hakoda dropped his hand, and the Princess’ smile fell with it. They continued their story, _minus_ the weird flattery.

****

“We weren’t there, Chief Hakoda, we don’t know how they got the blasting jelly. The only reason we know they were there is because Regional Command issued Urgent Wanted Posters. But–”

“Towns don’t just _flood themselves_!”

****

“She tricked her way onto an earthbender prison. We arrived at the prison after they’d left, she lost the necklace in the battle.”

****

“I wasn’t on the island when the volcano erupted, but Zuko was.”

“–I am _not_ mumbling, I said ‘ _with us inside’–_ ”

****

“Your daughter stole the scroll from pirates, and– don’t look at me like that, you can ask her the next time you see her. She even apologized for it. Well, Zuko saved her from them, and– No, we didn’t bring her onto our ship. Bring a waterbender out into the middle of a river? What do we look like to you?”

****

“It’s not our fault that your children keep putting themselves in these situations.”

“–If they would let us capture the _Avatar_ , maybe they’d be in less mortal _peril!”_

****

“Chief Hakoda, I am trying to have a civil conversation, but if you continue to _not believe me_ , then I find no need for this interrogation to continue.”

****

These children were going to be the death of him. Maybe literally, based on the severity of the Princess’ glare.

She still sat in the chair, as regal as ever, but her smile had taken on the cold slant it had held on the deck. She was done talking, apparently, and the boy was following her lead. His silence was more of the ‘petty sulking’ variety, but silence was silence. It wasn’t in their agreement either.

The girl hid it well, the boy less so, but they were tired. Their shoulders slumped and their eyes exhausted. They needed some sleep, and Hakoda needed to start picking apart the narrative they gave. It was strange, like the stories his crew told over the fires. Regardless of its mysticality, the boy was so earnest in his expression, and the girl had gotten so irate at his implications that she was lying, that he doubted they were lying.

He’d have to double check their words. He had a correspondence due with General Fong in the next couple of days, that would be the easiest way to get the information he needed. He could send an albatross-pigeon at first light. Confirmation of his children’s fate was only a few days away.

But that wasn’t the only problem that required his immediate attention.

The siblings tensed, meeting his gaze that wasn’t as blank as he would’ve liked.

“We answered you!” the Soldier said. “What else do you want?”

“I need to confirm your information, Prince Zuko. In the meantime, there are rules both of you will need to follow while you are aboard this ship.”

The boy narrowed his good eye so much that it almost matched his burned one. “You said you weren’t going to hurt me if I talked.”

The Princess went suspiciously still.

“And now I won’t hurt you if you follow the rules. No more escape attempts. They’re a distraction, and distractions can get my crew killed. If I have to break your legs, I will. If you force me to kill you, I will. It’s up to you.”

The lantern on his desk flared, the flame jumping to press at the glass. It calmed just as fast as it grew, but for just a second, he could’ve sworn that it flickered… Blue?

The Princess’ glare was murderous, which was not a look Hakoda was used to seeing directed towards him by a teenager. Especially not a teenage _girl._ Neither teen responded, but the room was steadily warming up like they’d passed by the equator.

“You will follow orders, both from myself and my crewmen. And you will work. We have no cells, and every man, and woman, here earn their meals. Understand?”

The Prince’s glower was reaching impressive heights, and the Princess still hadn’t lifted the murder from her gaze. Neither had worked a day in their lives if Hakoda would wager a guess. But if the boy could plan three escape attempts in as many days while feverish and carrying his comatose sister, he really didn’t want to see what would happen when the two put their fully functional heads together.

“And no Firebending. This ship is _wooden_ , and we have no way of restraining Firebenders. Even stray sparks, like up on the mast, could strand us in the middle of the ocean. That’s not even mentioning what outright attacks on either the ship or the crew could do. This isn’t an _invitation_ , this is a warning. If you Fire bend, I will kill you. There may be other rules later, but for now–”

“I can’t,” the Soldier blurted out, crossing his arms.

Hakoda leveled him with a stare, waiting for the argument that he wasn’t going to enjoy in the least.

“I can’t just… _not_ Fire bend. I can do all that other stuff, I can work and follow orders, and the next time we escape you won’t catch us, but I… I’m not a master, I can’t just turn it off. That’s not healthy, anyways, who _does_ that. But I won’t hurt anyone. I swear on my honor, I won’t hurt anyone and if I do start a fire I’ll put it out, and–”

“Prince Zuko,” Hakoda said, “you’ll have to forgive me for doubting you.”

Firebenders don’t burn easily. That was a universal truth, just like how Waterbenders didn’t freeze and Earthbenders bones didn’t break. But the Prince had very large, very obvious flaw to his plans. No one that could just, _put out_ fires would end up with a burn stretching across half of their face.

The Princess seemed to realize where he was looking a second before her brother did, and she jumped to her feet, the chair slamming against the ground. Hakoda had never heard a person outright _snarl_ before, but it was just as terrifying as from any Polar Bear Dog.

The Prince drew in a sharp breath at the sound of the chair hitting the ground, and then his _hands were on fire._ Hakoda was on his feet in an instant, knife in hand and eyes focused on the Prince. Perhaps his wish to be rid of the Royalty was going to come true after all.

The Prince took a step back, raising his hands into a defensive stance. The fire in his palms went out. He glanced to the side, and slowly, the Prince reached out and wrapped a hand about the Princess’ raised wrist.

She was in the same stance she had been when Scuttles had attacked, knees bent and two fingers pointed out. She kept her eyes on Hakoda, but there was no smile or smirk on her face this time.

The Prince seemed to be trying to pull her back, but she wasn’t budging. His loose sleeves swung as he tugged on her hand, but–

His sleeves. His arms had been crossed when his palms had lit on fire, but the blue fabric wasn’t marred by even a speck of ash.

Hakoda lowed his knife, eyeing both of the siblings. The Prince lowered his hands, and the Princess let hers be lowered, in increments matching Hakoda. He sheathed his weapon, and the boy relaxed his stance. The girl did not, but her hands were more at a level of hand-to-hand sparring than Firebending.

“I didn’t,” the Prince stuttered. “to myself–I, I mean I _did,_ but not like _that–_ ”

The Princess shot her brother a look, like this was a part of a larger issue that Hakoda wasn’t privy to.

Hakoda took in a deep breath. “If you burn anything, either of you, I’ll have no choice. And I won’t be held responsible for my crew’s actions if you _startle_ someone. My men have no love for your kind.”

The boy nodded, and the girl stood straight, squaring her shoulders. He crossed his arms again, clenching his fists into the fabric of his shirt. Hakoda had a suspicion that it was more to hide shaking hands from view than any posturing or power play. The girl, on the other hand, was revealing that she was just like that.

“And what are you planning on doing with us?”

“I’ll be opening talks with your father. We’ll send you home when he meets our demands.”

Hakoda could not have predicted, nor was he prepared for, the twin looked of horror on the sibling's faces.

“You _can’t_ tell Father, having his children captured would… it will _shame_ him. You need to talk to our Uncle, not Father, he’ll get you anything you ask for, just _don’t tell the Fire Lord–”_

What was with the Fire Nation? They had so much pride that they couldn’t see past their own noses sometimes. “He’s your father, Prince Zuko. Does he want you home?”

“…yes,” the Prince said eventually. “Yes, yes of course he does.”

Hakoda turned his eyes to the Princess, who was stubbornly keeping her mouth closed. She turned a glare onto Hakoda, but it had an edge that he couldn’t quite place.

“Well, Princess?”

“Father has a war to win, Chief Hakoda. He doesn’t have time for petty ransoms.”

“…he’s your father.”

“As you’ve said.”

“He’s your father, he’ll meet some of our terms. I’m not unreasonable.” He heard the Princess let out a noise that was somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “What? What’s so funny?”

“ _Chief_ Hakoda, I wouldn’t expect a peasant such as yourself to understand, but the Fire Nation is more than a couple of tents surrounded by ice. Our Father, the Fire Lord, is a _very_ important man. He cannot have _anything_ get in the way of his Nation.”

“Oh, really? Well, I don’t know if it’s just the _peasant_ in me, but that’s not how a father acts.”

“It must be. The good of the Nation comes before everything, and that includes his own children.”

Hakoda couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A leader putting his nation above all else he could understand, but there _had_ to be some give. There was no way a man as powerful as Ozai would throw both of his heirs, his _children_ , away for… for what? For pride?

The Princess was bluffing. She had to be. The pinched look on the Prince’s face proved that. Evidently, they had taught lying and international power plays in whatever schooling the Fire Nation offered its Royals but had negated from letting their Crown Prince attend.

“Look, just, leave the negotiating to us, and _stop_ trying to escape. You’re safe here as long as you obey the rules.”

****

 _Safe_. Wasn’t that a concept. Azula couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt safe, whether it was eleven years spent keeping the delicate balance of Father’s blessings and trying to earn Mothers, and then Uncle’s, attentions, or two and a half years trying to keep her _idiot_ brother from killing himself chasing a Spirits tale in the middle of the Ocean when they weren’t on anybody’s side at the end of a century-long war, she knew better than letting her guard down.

She might have been Father’s favorite, but that didn’t mean his ire didn’t burn just as strong as it did with ZuZu.

It doesn’t mean that returning to the Palace without the Avatar would be any less of a death sentence.

The Chief didn’t know Father, he didn’t understand him. That meant that these… _negotiations_ were going to crash and burn, but it also meant that he wasn’t like Father either. She couldn’t earn his favor then hide behind the nearest target as they took his wrath and punishment.

But it was fine. She’d just do what she always did: agree, then do what she had to do, consequences be damned.

****

The Princess was giving him a look that he _really_ didn’t like. It was calculating, cold, it barely looked human. But she was nodding, and her brother agreed to the terms as well. It was good enough for tonight.

“You’re going to bed,” he said. “And both of you will _remain_ there until my men come to get you in the morning. Am I clear?”

The Prince nodded, grudgingly, but the Princess was still looking at him like he was a Pai Sho game she was certain she could spin in her favor. He’d made no rules about general surliness, or whatever _manipulations_ a teenage girl thought herself capable of, so he let it slide. He opened the cabin door and ushered both of them out into the hall. They both headed towards the healer’s room right across the hall. “Not you, Prince Zuko.” Hakoda corrected, “you’ll forgive me for wanting to separate you, and for wanting extra eyes on _you._ ”

“What?” The Princess growled.

“I’m afraid I can’t have you two plotting in the middle of the night, especially with no one to watch you. So you, Princess Azula, will be sleeping in the healer’s room. Prince Zuko will stay in the Crew Cabins.”

Neither of them moved.

“You expect me… to let you take my brother to sleep in a room filled with men who already _beat_ him while he was unconscious from fever?”

“He wasn’t unconscious enough to stay in the healer’s room where he wouldn’t have gotten beat, _Princess._ ”

The girl stepped forewords, hands clenched into fists. It took every drop of Hakoda’s willpower to not take a step back. There wasn’t any fire, but by the look in her eyes that wouldn’t last long.

“…Azula,” the Prince started. “it’s… fine.”

“No, it’s _not_.”

“ _Azula_.”

The siblings seemed to have another one of their silent conversations. It ended with Azula giving him a short, angry nod, and stepping towards the door.

“I trust you won’t try to run without your brother?”

She didn’t respond. She just raised an eyebrow at him with a quirk to her lips. She didn’t even slam the healer’s door shut, which was quite common in teenagers if he remembered correctly. It clicked shut with a whisper, and he motioned the Prince towards the stairs.

The Prince approached them with a calm sort of caution. He didn’t look back at the Healer’s Room, but he didn’t square his shoulders and storm down the stairs like he did everything else. He probably hadn’t gone down there, then, if he was hesitating.

The Crew Cabin was one of the largest rooms on the ship, besides the hold. It held a crews worth of swaying hammocks with sea chests secured to the walls. There was only one empty hammock, and it turned Hakoda’s stomach to see it being used by an _ashmaker_ , but it was all they had. Bato would be returning to them in a few week’s time, if all went well.

Hopefully, the Fire Siblings would be on their merry way home by then.

“It’s in the middle of the room,” cut through Hakoda’s thoughts.

“Will that be a problem?” _it better not be a problem,_ is what he meant, but since they would be in close quarters with the Firebender, it was better to keep things… civil.

“It’s creepy,” the boy sniffed, but he sat down, nonetheless.

Hakoda left with strict orders to keep an eye on the boy. Not that he needed to, the men were suspicious enough on their own, but it helped to know that the boy knew he wasn’t trusted. He also sent Ranalok and Aake up to stand watch outside the Princess’ room. He had some thinking to do, and a ransom note to write.

****

The Healer’s room was silent. It was… _really_ creepy. The Wani had never been silent, always filled with the creaking of pipes and the groaning of the machinery. Here, on this wooden ship, there was nothing but the far-off splash of waves.

She hadn’t had this much quiet in… two and a half years. But even at the palace, there was the steps of the servants or the quiet clinking of the guards. She’d only heard silence like _this_ twice in her life, and she didn’t like to think of either of those times.

And the Chief had shoved her into a room, _alone_ , to sleep. Like he expected her to sit quietly and wait for him to send for her. Like he didn’t think she was enough of a danger to warrant constant guard. Oh well, it was his loss, really.

But then he had taken Zuko with him, to a room full of enemies, to sleep amongst wolves.

 _Zuko._ Her brother, who couldn’t lie to save his life, who was covered in a myriad of bruises he hadn’t had when he returned from his last escapade into treason. Who had gained them trying to get them off of an enemy ship, feverish and stranded in the middle of the ocean. Who had been prepared to have his leg broken by a band of _savages_.

When she found out who had thought up _that_ idea, they were going to have _words._ And she hadn’t missed the ring of black and green circling his wrist, larger than she had seen in a very long time.

It may have been two and a half years, but she knew a hand-sized bruise when she saw one.

The Chief would get was he deserved. But she couldn’t do anything yet. Not until she came up with a plan. Not unless she wanted to damn them all to a watery grave.

She would do it if pressed. She would burn this ship down and laugh as the crew attempted to stop her. But to die so far from Agni? Frozen in the depths of La’s embrace? She couldn’t forsake her brother's Spirit like that. Unlike her, he probably still held a chance at being reborn in Agni’s light.

She was patient. She would bide her time, dreaming of all the things she could do once they got in view of land.

She went to sleep surrounded in silence, with a smile on her face for the first time in years.

****

Zuko hated it. It was creepy, and it was weird, and he could _feel_ the eyes watching him. The hammock swayed with the ocean, just like his futon on the Wani never did. He couldn’t lie flat either, and the furs were covered in dust and _heavy–_

…the only empty bed in the entire room, in the middle of the room, already fully dressed? And covered in dust? Whose bed was this? Was he lying in a _dead mans bed?_

“You want a cup of tea to sleep, or are you going to drug someone else?” Apparently his tossing hadn’t been as quiet as he’d thought. The Healer was in the hammock next to his, which was more of a relief than it should have been.

Zuko felt heat rising to his cheeks. Thank Agni there weren’t any lanterns in the room, or he was certain that they would be flickering wildly. Azula always said he blushed easy, he didn’t need the _enemy_ to pick up on that too. It would just be embarrassing.

“I wasn’t going to drink your drugged tea, and _maybe_ you should teach your men to keep better track of their teacups.” He snapped. Quietly. Because people were sleeping, and he didn’t need to gain any more of their ire than he already had.

“well, I guess I’ll have to bring that one up to the Chief. Nice of you to not let the tea go to waste, anyways,” the Healer snorted. “Anything broken? Where’s your sister?”

“ _Why_?”

“Healer, kid. Don’t make me go looking.”

“…he didn’t hurt us. And Azula’s in your room, sleeping.”

The responding _huh_ did nothing to calm his nerves.

“Alone?”

“…yeah.”

This time, the _huh_ was a little more reassuring.

“Well, she’s got guards to stop any escape attempts. Think hers are gonna be any better than yours, kid?” oh, Zuko bristled at that. The man sighed. “Goodnight, brat. If _you_ make for another escape, don’t wake me up.”

“I won’t,” Zuko said.

Someone across the room snorted, like he thought they were joking. Healer Kustaa snorted, because he knew they weren’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I'm running out of chapter titles. Do you have any suggestions?


	5. If You Play with Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fire Siblings are introduced to the Crew, and absolutely no one was prepared for the chaos they bring. 
> 
> Alternatively, the siblings engage in fun bonding activities, Hakoda gains some gray hairs, Toklo makes quite a few mistakes, and Azula gets her nails done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Can I just say, from the bottom of my heart? My bad
> 
> Well, in condolences for this being... two months late? Here are fourteen (14) pages of pure chaos. And shoutout and my wholehearted thanks to those of you who came to yell at me on Tumblr. I did hear you, and you're pretty much the only reasons I got this finished before the New Year.
> 
> Also, the title comes from reader ThoughtsField! thank you so much for the suggestion!

At the crack of dawn, the crew went to wake the Fire Prince.

He was already awake, glaring at them from the hammock, arms crossed.

Close to an hour later, they went to fetch the Fire Princess.

She opened the door to her room before they could even knock.

This is normally considered to be something called a ‘fair warning’.

****

“He finished,” Tuluk said. “And the girl’s still braiding rope. I don’t think she’s moved since Ranalok put her on deck this morning.”

“He… what?” Hakoda blinked up at him, bewildered. The sun wasn’t even past its height yet, it was barely halfway through the morning, how was the kid _done_ already? Scuttles was pawing at the ground and whining, trying to get past the leg Tuluk had stuck across the doorway and towards the hold. Where the Prince was rearranging their supplies. Where he should’ve spent all day, working till he tapped out. “They weren’t supposed to help him that much.”

The news about the Princess didn’t surprise him that much. She seemed much calmer than her brother. Which was part of the reason he’d had Ranalok teach her how to weave rope, instead of sticking her with some of the more labor-intensive chores they did on deck.

“They didn’t help him at all,” Tuluk nudged Scuttles back with his boot. “Kid didn’t even ask. Neither of them has taken any breaks, either.”

“Hmm, make sure the Prince, at least, takes a break. Healer Kustaa’ll have our heads if he doesn’t.”

“Little Badger Viper gets _growly_ if you imply he’s tired. The girl’s got the pompous Royalty thing down pat, though. I don’t think I’ve seen an eyebrow be raised like that since Tanaraq was a teenager,” Tuluk laughed, pushing off of the doorframe. “I’ll bring him up to the deck, maybe he’ll get a little less growly if he can see his sister. I’m sure Aake can have him miss-a-spot for at least an hour.”

****

Zuko hadn’t missed that spot. He hadn’t missed that spot the last _three times_ either.

The Tribesmen were just messing with him.

“If you’re _tired_ ,” one of them yelled from across the deck, “you could take a­­­­—”

“ _I’m not tired!”_

No, he wasn’t tired, he was _sore_. He’d moved every box in their hold from one end to the other while they just stood their and watched. Then that dog had gotten out of the Chief’s office and had chased him halfway up the mast, which the dog was now tied to, and it was _growling_ at him. The dog was better than the crew, though, because they were _smirking_.

At least that dog knew better than to go near Azula. It probably didn’t want to get turned into Yakizakana. Agni knew what the Chief would do if that happened.

The dog, apparently, had better sense than its Masters.

Azula was sitting with her back to the rails, piles of rope and twine coiled up around her. She was braiding it together into thick cords, which was _weird_ because Azula didn’t know how to braid. Not really, anyway. Mother had never really offered to teach her.

Though, perhaps the crewman sitting next to her who was _also_ braiding had something to do with it. Azula would’ve died before asking him to teach her, but she’d never been a slow learner. She’d probably just watched him until she could do it herself.

It was hard to watch both his sister and the crew changing the sails to catch the winds, but it was better than staring the spot-he’d-missed. Again.

The crew wasn’t letting him anywhere near Azula. It wouldn’t have been a problem, normally. She could handle herself. Better than him, anyway. But they needed to get off of the ship, they needed to get back to Uncle, and escape attempts were marginally harder when he couldn’t communicate with the person who usually came up with the plans.

Whatever, he’d figure something out.

With a jolt one of the larger crewman, the one who’d wanted to break his _leg_ , grabbed the end of Zuko’s mop. The man glared down at him with a _nasty_ black eye. Zuko glared back, harder.

“You’re barely getting the deck wet. Start over.”

“… start over?”

“You heard me.”

The _leg breaker_ wasn’t even smirking. He just glared down at Zuko, waiting for him to break. The deck wasn’t even _dirty_ and he’d gone over the entire space _three times_. There was a dog growling at him from the mast and crewmembers jeering at him to ‘ _take a break_ ’ every time he stopped to try and dig the splinter out of his hands, and now they were just sitting there, eating, without offering him any of the food. They hadn’t offered any to Azula yet, _either._

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Azula setting her rope down and standing. Good, maybe this would give her an excuse to stretch her legs. She’d never done well sitting still for long periods of time.

Zuko put a foot on the buckets rim and kicked it over. It splashed over the deck, soaking the Leg Breaker’s boots.

“Is that enough water?”

****

“I’m going to murder the brats if you let Tuluk saddle me with either of them again,” Aake stated, after knocking on Hakoda’s doorframe. “Just so you know.”

He was smiling more pleasantly than a man should, with a split lip. And a broken nose. And a set of bloody lines across his cheek.

“… Noted,” Hakoda said.

****

Azula was going to murder him. Both of them. The large man with the black eye who’d put his hands on her brother _and_ her idiotic brother who’d dumped a bucket of water over the mans feet. She still hadn’t been able to get the blood out from under her nails.

How they hadn’t killed each other yet was a mystery. One she wasn’t so keen on uncovering.

Zuko was sitting on the bed, shirt off, and the Doctor was poking at the expansive bruising on his ribs. He’d definitely had worse, but it would be nice if he didn’t try to tempt their captors into homicide every five minutes.

The Chief strode into the infirmary, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. That made two of them.

“Whatever he said, he’s lying. I wasn’t escaping and I wasn’t bending, and I’ve been working all day,” Zuko blurted out, tightening his grip on the edge of the cot. He was glaring up at the Chief like he expected there to be a fight.

“He said you kicked a bucket of water over on him. Then you… exchanged blows. And your sister jumped in before it could go any further.”

“oh,” Zuko deflated a little bit, the dum-dum. “He’s not lying, then.”

“New rule,” the Chief sighed. “No instigating fights, with or without bending. And no jumping in, either, _Princess._ ”

_Tough luck._

“He ‘instigated’,” Zuko muttered, earning himself a jab of her nails into his bruises. _Five minutes_ , that’s all she asked. Five minutes without trying to get himself killed.

The Chief raised an eyebrow at her. She raised hers higher.

Two could play at that game.

With a sigh, he shook his head and left the room.

****

After being thoroughly poked and prodded by not-Uncle, and _thoroughly_ glared down by Azula, Zuko was back to mopping the deck. At least there was a different Tribesman breathing down his neck.

Then they’d taken both of them below deck, Azula had been directed to the Kitchens and he’d been sent to their…, not hawkery. Whatever _were_ these things? Giant and puffy and _apparently_ they thought his Phoenix Tail was a particularly furry snack.

“Aw, look,” one of his new guards cooed from against the doorframe. “She likes him.”

“Or she’s trying to eat him,” the other guard snorted.

Zuko couldn’t help from agreeing.

Then, once again, his guards went into the kitchen and came out with dinner. And ate in front of him. Again.

****

Her brother. Was an idiot.

Zuko was sitting on the deck, barely three feet from the giant plates laden with food, and he was _pouting._ He would switch between glaring at the trays of food and glaring at the crewmen around him, happily eating away, but he wouldn’t touch the food.

Even when it was _right there._

They didn’t share food back home. Even on the Wani, everyone had their own plate. Agni, it was even a faux pas to share utensils or tableware, but here it was obvious that they had no such qualms.

She marched up to the _communal_ plate closest to her brother and grabbed… a handful of what felt like pieces of dry bark. Whatever. The rest of the crew was eating them, so they had to be _somewhat_ edible, if not palatable.

“What’re you doing?” Zuko harshly whispered as she sat down next to him, making sure she covered his blind spots.

“What does is look like, ZuZu?” She popped a chunk of the bark into her mouth. Huh, dried fish. She probably should’ve guessed, seeing as they were in the middle of the ocean. “I’m _eating_.”

“… The Chief gave you permission to eat?” He sounded truly bewildered.

_Idiot._

“They’re _communal plates,_ dum-dum, you don’t _need_ permission. In case you haven’t noticed, they’re sharing the food.” She took another bite of the dried fish. “We’re not home, anymore ZuZu, you can’t keep expecting things to be like they were.”

“I am _well_ aware of that,” he snarled, wrenching himself away to take his anger out on the food choices.

At least he was eating.

****

The stars were different here than back home. It wasn’t surprising, considering they were in a completely different hemisphere, but still. He’d look up, expecting to see the lights that had guided his people for millennia, and get hit with an almost overwhelming wave of homesickness when the sky was just… _wrong._

They’d had to purchase new star maps two years ago when they’d gotten really involved with the Earth Kingdom’s Navy rather than running independent excursions in the South.

“You might want to ask the Princess to cut her nails,” Panuk said dryly, leaning against the rail.

“…What?” Hakoda lowered his sextant.

“Did you see Aake’s face?” At Hakoda’s nod, Panuk continued, “she did that. No weapons, no Firebending, just… slapped him across the face hard enough to take skin with her. The Prince was holding his own against Aake, too, so she didn’t have a reason to jump into the fight.”

He looked to where the siblings were sitting, slightly separated from the rest of the crew, but close enough to grab food from the various plates scattered around the deck. They weren’t sitting like he would expect of two Royal teenagers, though. Sure, their backs were straighter than his spear and he was pretty sure he could cut the tension radiating off of them with a knife, but they didn’t face each other when speaking like every other Fire Nation prisoner they’d ever had. They were close enough to touch, shoulder to shoulder, but they were angled away from each other like he and Bato used to do on overnight hunting trips when the weather warmed.

“There’s something… Off about her, Hakoda,” Panuk’s voice jolted through his thoughts. “She’s quiet, sure, but you didn’t see what she looked like when Aake and the Prince… exchanged blows. Tui and La, I thought she was gonna burn this ship to the ground, she was so mad. And the way she just sits there all day… I don’t know, it’s just a hunch, but I’d keep a close eye on her, Hakoda.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Panuk. She’s definitely smarter than she lets on,” Hakoda shook his head, shooting a glance at the Royals. They glared back like they could hear what they were saying. “Definitely.”

“Better watch the Prince with the albatross-pigeons, though.” Panuk laughed, pushing himself off of the railing.

“Why. Did he threaten them?”

“Worse, the dummies _like_ him. Seabreeze tried to preen him and got herself tangled in his hair, but the only ones he growled at were _us._ Gotta watch so he doesn’t convert them into enemy birds.”

****

“Write to your father,” Hakoda slid two pieces of paper over to the Royalty. Calling them into his office had been a spur of the moment decision, but they seemed more relaxed when they were together than apart.

And… there were those identical looks of panic. Though the Princess schooled her expression better than the Prince.

“…okay.”

And then both of them wrote exactly nothing.

It… was a little strange, seeing two young adults so wary of writing to their father. However hard they tried to hide it, most people didn’t try to defend their family’s honor before their own lives.

Fire Nation Pride at its finest.

But it wasn’t like he was one to talk. He’d taken far longer than he’d wanted to when writing his own letter to the Fire Lord. It was daunting, addressing the man who continued his families conquest for glory in a way that would get results.

In the end, he’d asked for two things. Easily worth two children. The return of the men they’d lost in the raid that had nearly cost the– In the raid that had put his second in the abbey for the past month. And a treaty that the Fire Nation would stay out of Southern Waters.

Easy.

Personally, he would’ve given a lot more to get Sokka and Katara back, but he was the Chief of one Tribe, not the born Leader of an Imperialistic Nation.

They probably gave their children a different worth, the barbarians.

Neither of them had written anything.

Hakoda sighed, but apparently, the siblings had better hearing than he expected, because they both jumped. The fire in the lamp flickered in their eyes, which made it look like they _actually_ had fire in their souls.

Unnatural.

“He’s your father,” Hakoda said. “Whatever you expect him to expect, just, stop. Just tell him you’re safe and being treated well.”

“But we’re not,” the brat said. His sister remained oddly quiet. “And we’re not.”

 _We could be treating you a lot worse,_ is what he did not say. Two royal brats probably weren’t used to pulling their own weight, it was probably a rough awakening for them. The Fire Nation made a point to give the best to its citizens, leaving the rest of the world starving and burned. No doubt the Royalty were pampered until the day they died.

“Write,” Hakoda ordered.

****

Azula watched her brother tuck his bruised wrist in between his legs, and she _steamed._ The idiotic Chief wanted them to write to Father. As if that wouldn’t be a death sentence.

For both of them.

Sure, Father might want her home, she was a prodigy after all. She still had use, and for all he knew, she was perfectly loyal. But Zuzu? With his bleeding heart and painfully average Firebending skills (at least compared to her)? He wouldn’t last a day back home. Especially since they hadn’t, you know, _captured the Avatar?_ The one thing Zuko was tasked to do, as impossible as it is. Was.

Whatever.

So Father might welcome her home, but it wouldn’t be with open arms, and it _certainly_ wouldn’t be with her brother at her side.

And she wouldn’t leave him alone with these _Savages_. That wasn’t an option. When Father asked for her, but told them to keep her brother? She’d either have to dig her heels in and refuse to go, which would drop her from Fathers favor faster than leaving with Zuzu had, or she could pick a fight with the Crew and risk the ire of the seas.

Neither option was appealing.

 _Unless_ …

Her page was still painfully blank.

The Chief wanted her to write and wasn’t afraid of discipline. She had to write. But–

She had to protect Zuko, she had to protect herself. Those two necessities rarely conflicted, but when they did…

No. She wouldn’t choose one or the other. Her parents had done that and look where that had gotten them.

(It had gotten her Mother _out_ but at the cost of her children.)

This was fine. She could do this.

She’d always been good at diplomacy.

(Father’s version of diplomacy, but if it quacks like a Turtleduck.)

A plan half-formed was less than she preferred, but still, she wrote.

****

The Princess was… quiet. The last time he’d pulled the both of them into his office, she’d taken charge. Now, it was like she was too immersed in her own brain to bother with him. Panuk might’ve had a point.

The Prince was writing, at least. He looked like he’d be doing literally anything else, but the Fire Nation had always been more prideful than practical.

Ozai was a father, first and foremost. Any embarrassment the Prince and Princess thought they would bring from their capture shouldn’t impede the ransom.

They handed their pages back at the same time. They were… practically identical, barring the actual words on the page. The handwriting was so similar he’d have trouble telling them apart if it wasn’t for the names signed at the end.

Neat handwriting was probably an expectation in the Royal Court.

The Prince wrote a fairly simple letter, reiterating the facts of his capture and expressing vague regret and a plea for another chance. The Princess, on the other hand, had written the exact opposite. Instead of a Military Regulation Report, she’d written… a letter. Like one he’d receive from Katara if they could’ve afforded to keep up communications with their families.

It was informal, a simple letter from a daughter to a father and–

…It was exactly what he expected.

He didn’t know why he was surprised.

****

Zuko had a rough night. The crew didn’t appreciate it.

“Sorry,” he snapped. Having _that_ dream always put him on edge. “I’ll try to have my nightmares more _quietly._ ”

That… didn’t make things any better.

Healer Kustaa handed him a cup of tea, which was weird because he hadn’t even noticed him leaving. It was jasmine, and the leaves were a little scalded, but it was… nice. He could focus on his breathes and keep the drink warm as he waited for the sun to rise.

****

It was _cold._ The sun had risen ages ago but had yet to chase off the damp chill of the early morning. The crew had him scrubbing sandstones on sticks across the deck, which helped, but not by much.

It really just made his back hurt.

“ _with_ the grain,” a crewman jeered.

He _was_ going with the grain, they just wanted to yell at him. Not to mention it was hard to focus on _the grain_ when he hadn’t seen Azula since last night in the Chief’s office. She’d been kept in the healer's room all morning, which was good so she wouldn’t be freezing cold, but he didn’t like having her out of sight on an enemy ship. ‘

Not that she couldn’t take care of herself, but–

“Put your back into it!” Another crewman yelled from across the deck.

He grit his teeth. It was cold, and his back hurt, and the winds sliced through his thin clothes like they were nothing. He was trying to warm up, keeping up Uncle’s breath of fire, but the crew members were giving him _looks._ He tried to keep the steaming air to a minimum, but it was _cold,_ and the Chief hadn’t specified what counted as ‘startled’ to his crew. He just… had to keep his head down, and he’d be fine.

A giant… _thing_ fell out of the sky, startling him out of his thoughts. It was one of those oversized seagulls they used as messenger birds, and it… looked like it didn’t have a single brain cell in that ridiculously sized head. It bounced off of the deck, rolling onto its feet and cooing.

“Is it… okay?”

“It’s fine,” a crewmember dismissed, picking the thing up and hoisting it under one arm.

“…okay,” Zuko watched him carry it below deck. It was bigger than the ship's dog. And possibly less flight capable. It barely fit through the door. The man was probably going to deliver the message to the Chief, and Zuko _knew_ that it was too soon to be from his Father–

“Back to work.”

Taking his irritation out on the deck wasn’t particularly satisfying, but it was better than taking it out on the crew.

****

Hakoda had sent out the message to the Fire Lord, along with the Prince and Princess’s confirmations of safety, at dawn.

He’d sent out the message to his Earth Kingdom allies after his _interview_ with the Royalty. General Fong had a lot on his shoulders, he knew, but he’d appreciate if he at least _tried_ to disguise his… _bias’_.

This was the fastest reply he’d gotten from the man. By a significant margin.

The Earth Kingdom would be pleased to offer a prison to hold the captured royalty. A better choice than a wooden ship in contested waters.

The Earth Kingdom eagerly awaited his reply and was sending one of their fastest ships to the attached location, fully equipped to hold even _two_ Imperial Firebenders.

The Earth Kingdom was happy to take any and all leverage away from the Water Tribes and use the Royals for their own agenda.

A knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts a second before the Prince was shoved into the room. Aake followed soon after, a grim look set into his face.

“He was bending,” the crewman said, shutting the door behind him.

“You said I could!” the Prince puffed up indignantly, like a particularly offended puffin hawk. He’d shifted from where he’d stumbled into the room, placing himself to keep both Hakoda and Aake in his line of sight.

Did he even know he was doing it?

“The Chief said,” Aake huffed out, looking tremendously like a saber bull ready to charge, “that you could breathe _fire?_ ”

****

Zuko wasn’t on deck when she was brought up. Not only was he not on deck, but the crew hands were trading unnerved glances in between eyeing her like she was going to spontaneously combust.

Well, maybe she would. If only to keep them on their toes.

But apparently strangeness aside, the large man whose name she most definitely didn’t remember was Ranalok plopped her down among the ropes like he’d done every day aboard this Agni-damned vessel.

Honestly, it was like they didn’t trust her to do anything other than _weaving._ Swabbing the deck wasn’t exactly worth her time, but at least Zuko got to switch up his daily chores.

“… hey,” a voice came from above her, near the railing. One of the younger crewmen was standing there, twisting his hands around the handle of the mop.

He looked nervous.

Good.

“Can you breathe fire?” Well. That was _not_ what she was expecting. No wonder the crew was spooked if Zuzu started breathing out flames instead of just heating the air around him.

“The Breath of Fire is an ancient Firebending technique, only used by the most powerful Firebenders of our time. Very few people even know of its existence.” She quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, wow, okay… So can you do it?” He leaned on the railing, smiling at her.

“Of course,” she sniffed. What kind of question was that, _could she breathe fire?_ Zuzu could manage it with his perfectly average skills, and she wasn’t about to let _him_ show her up

The crewman was still there.

“ _what?_ ”

“Could you–“

“Hey Toklo!” The slightly older crewman yelled from the stairs, cutting off the rest of the crewman’s question. “Chiefs calling for you!”

****

 _Stop breathing fire_ was not a sentence Hakoda ever thought he’d say. Not in a million years. But to be fair, he also never thought he’d have to tell his daughter to _stop caving the roof in on top of her brother_ , so maybe it was just a child-bender thing.

His response to Fong still sat, glaring and empty.

_We will consider your offer._

**** 

The two guards from yesterday, from the bird cages, came to get him. One of them was carrying an extra coat, which was several sizes smaller than the one the man (boy?) currently had on.

“I hate you so much right now,” the younger one with the extra coat said. “I hope you realize that.”

Zuko tensed, shutting his mouth to keep the sparks from escaping. Even if the Chief hadn’t said anything, he was pretty sure _breathing fire_ wasn’t allowed.

“He’s joking, kid,” the older crewman, who certainly wasn’t old enough to be calling him _kid_ , said. “Laundry is just… the _worst_.”

“Why?” Zuko hadn’t done laundry on the Wani, but none of his crew had ever complained. Well, not where he could hear them, anyway. But latrine duty and night watch had always been the punishment details.

“Besides it being women’s work?” The older one said, pushing one of the wicker baskets into his hands. “Here, carry this.”

“Wait…” the younger one said, with no small amount of dawning glee. Zuko had a very bad feeling about this.

They went back on deck, and the younger one made a show of shaking out the extra coat.

Which he then… tossed at Azula, who was sitting in the same spot as yesterday, braiding together thick pieces of rope. She picked up the furry blue fabric, pinching it between her fingers like she’d rather be holding _anything_ else. Her lip curled up in disgust, and she glanced up at the crewman who’d thrown it at her.

“Don’t worry,” he laughed. “You can wash it before you put it on… Speaking of…”

“Looks like you don’t have laundry duty anymore, Toklo,” one of the older crewmen shouted from the other side of the deck. A chorus of laughter erupted from the men.

Which was when they all started _throwing_ dirty shirts at Azula. Some of them even went to change so they could throw more and _worse_ at her.

She hadn’t moved. Still sitting cross-legged by the railing, chin held high, but _oh._ She looked _murderous_. She hid it really well, especially to Water Tribe savages who had only spent two days with her, but Zuko knew.

She made eye contact with him, raising an eyebrow slowly. He shook his head, and _Agni_ , he prayed she would listen.

She never had before, she never heeded his warnings, but now they were _actually_ in danger.

She got to her feet, slowly, which was never a good sign.

“Your Majesty!” one of his guards– Toklo– called. The other guard and he were filling a couple of half-barrels with water. “You can use these!”

His smile was so genuine too. All nice and relieved, with just a _touch_ of smugness.

“… ‘your Highness’,” Zuko corrected quietly, stepping forewords to help fill the buckets. “ ‘Majesty’ is for the Fire Lord.”

“And what… _exactly,_ am I doing?” Azula interrupted Toklo’s reply, tilting her head.

“Laundry, of course.” The older one replied, still hauling buckets of water up. Zuko _really_ hoped they would shut up soon. “They usually make the youngest crewmen do it, but now that _you’re_ here…”

“No more women’s work!” Toklo crowed. He picked up one of the smaller buckets, filled to the bring with water, and pushed it into Azula’s arms.

It splashed over, soaking her shirt through in seconds.

Zuko dropped his bucket.

The rest of the crew seemed frozen too, Toklo most of all. Then, one by one, they all seemed to disregard _every_ self-preservation instinct Zuko had gotten beaten into him by the age of five and _laughed._ It was quiet, sure. Mostly a couple of snorts and a few cackles, but it was still laugher. At Azula.

They were laughing at Azula.

Oh, Agni, save them all.

Azula, for her part, had started the deep breathing exercises that Uncle always made him practice. Zuko hadn’t thought she’d been paying attention.

And then the water on her shirt steamed. It was rather impressive, the expansive fabric going from soaked to dry in a matter of seconds.

The crew seemed to find it… less impressive than he did.

… and then the woven basket of water she was holding started to _boil_.

Toklo jumped back with a shriek. Azula was staring him down, so it was probably a smart move, but the water was boiling even harder so maybe not.

Zuko shoved the older boy behind him and grabbed the basket out of Azula’s hands. Now her murderous glare was on him, but at least he didn’t have to worry about her signing their death sentences two days in.

The wicker was hot, but not hot enough to burn. Now if he could just get…

“…what did you call it?” Azula asked, a small smirk playing on her lips.

_Great._

“Women’s work,” the older one answered, apparently paying no attention to the flaming Komodo-rhino in the room. “Y’know, cooking, cleaning, taking care of the kids, stuff like that.”

 _Please_ stop talking. He tried to reach out, stepping in front of Azula, but he was carrying a basket of _really_ hot water and he didn’t have any extra arms–

Azula pushed past him, stepping into the two guards’ space.

“And… what makes it women’s work?” She had that fake little tint in her voice that made her sound _so sweet_. It usually meant Zuko was going to end up in the infirmary before the day was over.

“Well.. women are better at sewing, and keeping things clean, and men are better at hunting and fighting. It’s just how things work,” the older one answered with a shrug. Zuko shook his head at the two, but that only seemed to spur Toklo on.

“Wait… do you _not_ know how to do laundry?” He honestly looked flabbergasted. _Why_ would they know how to do laundry? They had a crew for that. He set the basket on the deck and stepped towards the trio.

“No, why would I?” She was _goading them_. This wasn’t going to end well.

“ _Wow,_ what was your mom doing instead of raising you? Don’t worry,” Toklo laughed. Zuko frantically motioned for him to stop, but it had no effect. “We’ll make a proper wife out of you, yet.”

Oh, Agni. Oh no.

He jumped in front of the Tribesmen, and _wow,_ how did they not know when to stop? Azula was furious. More than furious. He hadn’t seen her this mad since… well, it had been a _really_ long time. She took in a deep breath and exhaled tongues of blue flame.

The crew was a little slow on the uptake, but they weren’t slow to act.

The two to his back tensed, turning into blue-clad statues in under a second. The _leg-breaker_ and about half of the crew were halfway across the deck before Zuko could blink.

Azula, it seems, didn’t notice any of this. Or maybe she just didn’t care.

“ _what_ did you just say?” She took a step forewords, spitting blue flames with every word. if he hadn’t grown up with her, Zuko probably would’ve backed away like the Tribesmen were starting to. As it was, he just flinched.

The leg-breaker was almost there, he was reaching out. He was reaching for _Azula_ and–

“Wait!” Someone called out. It took Zuko a second to realize it had been him. He took Azula’s hands in his, which were starting to spark and crackle, and pushed them down. “Just… just _hold on_.”

He stepped in between Azula and the Leg Breaker, glaring up at him. The crew stopped moving towards them, and the two that had started this whole thing stopped backing away.

He looked at Azula, at the rage in her eyes, and he _got it_. He really did. He was used to people doubting him for being born, but there was a time and a place, and this wasn’t it.

He shook his head and, imperceptibly, _thankfully,_ she nodded.

“Let’s just… The Chief told _us_ to do the laundry, so I’ll do it, okay?” Okay, deescalate, he could do this. “You don’t have to the laundry. ‘ _women’s work’_ is stupid, I know, so I’ll help them with the laundry, and you just… Don’t kill anyone?” 

That seemed to break her out of whatever anger-spiral her mind was dragging her through.

“Don’t worry, Zuzu, they’re not worth the effort,” she sneered, which _definitely_ did not help their case, but she had something _other_ than murderous intent in her voice, so that was a plus. The rage behind her eyes didn’t lessen, but she stopped glaring daggers at the idiots behind him. Small mercies.

He glared at the Leg Breaker, who wasn’t reaching for Azula anymore, but he _was_ hovering.

“We were so close!” Toklo whined from behind him. A dull thwap sounded as the older one smacked him on the back of the head.

With a nudge, Azula moved back to her previous spot. The ground was still littered with laundry, but she ignored it, simply picking her rope back up and continuing to weave.

****

The big man with the black eye glanced between her and the laundry tub, but apparently decided that _laundry_ was worth the trouble of dragging her before the Chief.

“Come on, _Princess_ , don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Azula glared up at him. They’d wanted her to work, so she’d worked. But now they have the _audacity_ to assume her ability and aptitudes based on her _gender_. Sure, Noble Women were usually pampered and dainty, but no Fire Nation woman worth her flame would be caught untrained or unprepared for battle.

Better at staying home and taking care of the kids. Ridiculous.

****

“Chief,” Aake called from the door, ushering the Princess into the room. “She tried to start a fight.”

“Maybe if your crew knew what was good for them, they’d learn to shut their mouths.” The Princess sneered. She did the exact same thing as her brother, positioning herself to keep both him and Aake within view. Maybe it was bred into their blood.

“… what?” Hakoda blinked, setting down the map he’d been charting. This sounded _interesting_. “Is anyone hurt?”

“No,” the girl interrupted. “But they got close. I may be a girl, Chief Hakoda, but I am far from helpless and I don’t appreciate your _crews_ attempts at making me fill whatever role they think I fit. And I would advise that you and your crew keep your backwater opinions to yourselves.”

He shot a look at Aake, who looked faintly amused.

“Toklo and Panuk tried to pass laundry duty off on her. Stating ‘women’s work’.”

 _Ah,_ that explains it. 

“Princess, I apologize for their behavior. They’re young, and boys–“

“It wasn’t _just_ them,” she snapped, smoke puffing out of her mouth and nose. If he closed his eyes and imagined really hard, he could almost see Katara standing in front of him, mid-shouting match with her brother. Or perhaps Kya, back when they were teenagers and he’d stuck his foot in his mouth for the nth time.

This wasn’t Katara or Kya, but the point still stood.

“Alright, I’m sure whatever you did scare them off of any out of hand comments.” Aake snorted, leaning against the doorpost. He’d have to get that story later. “But don’t do it again. You are still a _guest_ on this ship and threatening my crew will earn you no favors.”

The lamp flickered blue for a hot second but settled back into its normal flickering orange before Hakoda could question his sanity.

Perhaps he needed a break from paperwork.

Perhaps it was time to switch topics.

“It’s cold out, and it’s going to get colder, Princess. Did Toklo give you his coat?”

“In a manner of speaking,” she huffed, crossing her arms.

Wow. Had they not taught those boys how to act around a girl?

They’d have to work on that.

“You’ll want to wear it. I already talked to your brother about it this morning, but no _breathing fire,”_ he _really_ needed a break. That was the _second_ time today he’s said the words ‘ _no breathing fire’._ “If anyone gives you trouble, you can come to me. But like I told your brother, no _instigating_.”

The Princess took a long breath in through her nose, held it, then let it out in a slow gust. The lantern on the table rose and shrank with her breaths. It was… disconcerting, to say the least. Hakoda wanted to tell her to stop, but… she wasn’t harming anyone.

She was just playing some sort of mind game, showing him that he was never truly safe, on a wooden ship with two Royal Firebenders.

…or something.

“Fine.” Her words jolted him out of his thoughts.

She swept out of the room with a final nod.

****

The man with the black eye shoved a mop into her hands when they stepped onto the deck. The constant motions hurt her back, but it was better than sitting still and _braiding_ all day.

Stupid Water Tribe stereotypes.

Her brother was sitting with the Water Tribe idiots, making conversation.

“–steaming?” The older one– Panuk?– asked.

“It’s _not,_ ” Zuko snapped, whose water was _most definitely steaming_. The younger one, the one whose coat she was wearing, shoved his arms into the bucket up to the elbow.

“Tui and La, it’s _warm_ ,” he said. “how did you do that? It feels _amazing,_ here, do mine!”

Panuk was staring at Zuko, a deceptively calm expression that all of her tutors had mastered, and then he glanced to where Aake was tying off a line. The older man was already watching them, his frown pulling at the scratches Azula had etched into his face.

“Did Hakoda really give you permission to use your bending?” He asked, shooting a glance towards Azula.

She would practically _feel_ Zuko bristling. He always tried to make himself bigger, like the prickly boar-Qu-pines they’d seen at the National Zoo when they were younger.

“I wasn’t _lying_ , Leg Breaker just didn’t believe me–“

“Leg Breaker?” Panuk _laughed_ like it was funny.

“…He wanted to break my legs,” Zuko was pulling in on himself, attempting to make himself smaller, and that simply could not do.

“I beg your pardon,” Azula softened her voice, but her grip on the mop handle was hard enough to hurt. Zuko glanced up at her with wide eyes– well, _eye_ – and promptly shut his mouth. “ _Who?”_

He still wasn’t answering her, like an _idiot._ She would find out eventually, whether from Zuko himself or deductive reasoning. This was the second time it had been mentioned, and she was _very_ tired of people outside of their family threatening her brother.

 _Especially_ with bodily harm.

“Zuko,” she started towards him. The two _idiots_ he was working with _flinched_.

They _flinched._ At her. Because they were _scared_ of her.

Part of her wanted to smile. Grit her teeth into the vicious grin she’d spent hours in front of the mirror perfecting. A part of her thought _good,_ they should be scared of her. She was the Princess of the Fire Nation, and fear was a much better ruler than trust.

But the other part of her, the part that only two people in this entire world knew about, flinched back. The part of her that looked and sounded exactly like Mother whispered _monster_ and she…

That little voice was getting harder to ignore as she got older.

“Can you heat ours too?” The older idiot cut in, obviously trying to spare her brother from a potentially upsetting conversation.

He took the out.

The coward.

No matter, she’d find out eventually.

****

Washing clothes… wasn’t as bad as the Water tribesmen had made it out to be. Zuko and Toklo would wash, once they’d taught him how, and Panuk took to wringing out the clothes. It was boring. It was repetitive. It certainly wasn’t worth getting on Azula’s bad side. It would’ve been worse with cold water, but…

Losing a few fingers was probably better than getting on Azula’s bad side.

“We’d better hang some of this up before we keep going,” Panuk said.

“Can’t you just bend the water out?” Zuko asked. The boys slowly turned identical looks on him, strange and completely incomprehensible. “is that… not? Something Waterbenders can do?”

“We’re not Waterbenders,” Toklo answered, setting down the shirt he’d been scrubbing.

“Who is? Would they help?” They just kept _looking_ at him, and Azula behind him had slowed her mopping till she was standing still, staring at the deck. Zuko glared at the boys, “would they help or _not?_ ”

“We don’t have any benders, Your Highness,” Panuk said, laying out the title like it had weight.

****

_Idiot._

The helpful, friendly _idiot._

She was moving, but her mind was miles away. No benders? It made sense, with the utter lack of skill the Waterbender possessed. But…

But it was smart. It was tactically brilliant, removing those who could fight and defend and who were the backbone of the Watertribe. Send raids until the Waterbenders were too tired to defend themselves. Overwhelm them with force but keep the raids short. Don’t lose too many soldiers, then go back in a month. A season. A year. Keep going back until their forces were demolished and surrendered easily. Then keep sending raids to give them something to remember.

It was basic battle tactics. She’d studied them as a child, but the tutors never taught her that they had been put into _practice_.

The Watertribe had no Waterbenders.

And a nation without benders? They’d fall apart within generations.

Which was exactly what had happened.

The scent of charred wood filtered through her thoughts, and she jerked up. Two handprints burned into the handle of the mop. The soot-stained her fingers black.

That… hadn’t happened in years.

Losing control was Zuzu’s area of expertise, not hers.

“I could dry,” her brother offered, solemn and a little chagrined. The crewmen just blinked at him, like a pair of particularly stupid cat owls. “It wouldn’t be as good as Waterbending, I couldn’t get the salt out, but it would be faster than letting them air dry.”

Of course he’d offered that. He’d perfected the servant's technique of drying cloth while they were still children.

Azula always knew that pushing him into the pond would pay off someday.

****

Hakoda was manning the wheel when Tuluk came up, motioning for him to look out over the deck as he took the wheel from him.

Directly below him, gathered around several barrels of water, sat the Prince and the two youngest crewmembers. Toklo was washing the clothes, as ordered, then Panuk would wring them out and pass them to the Prince who was… pressing them between his hands? A thin trail of smoke– no, _steam_ – was wafting up into the air.

Huh, handy.

“That’s a convenient trick you’ve got there,” he said, leaning against the rail. The Prince stiffened, dropping the sock before his hands lit on fire. The Princess glared up at him from her place swabbing the deck, the top of her mop discolored between her hands.

“You did say we could bend,” the Princess called, leaning on her mop. Cool composure dripped from her voice like venom.

“That I did,” a huffed out a laugh, then announced to the crew, “they’re allowed to bend, as long as they don’t burn anything or hurt anyone.”

The Prince was still glaring at him, buried in his borrowed coat like a moray-hermit-crab on the defense. The crewmembers besides him were glancing between him and the Prince, twin sheepish expressions creeping onto their faces.

He sighed.

“You heated the water, didn’t you?” that would explain the distinct lack of complaining, but he’d chalked that up to Princess and her general… _everything._

At least Panuk and Toklo looked a little cowed at having been covering for a Firebender all day.

“It was a good idea,” the Prince looked at him sharply. “It’ll take less time this way.”

The stunned expression didn’t leave the Prince’s face until long after Hakoda went back to the wheel, its match creeping at the edges of the Princess’ eyes. Strange. It’s like they’ve never gotten positive reinforcement before.

****

The wind blew their conversation up in bits and pieces.

“Water’s getting cold again–” Toklo said. With the next gust, “How did I _ever_ live without a Firebender–”

****

“How do the sails work?” The Prince asked.

“ _Why_ would I tell you that?” Panuk replied. “You’re just fishing for information on how to escape–”

“It’s not like I’m going to escape anytime soon–“

“Zuzu, you could at least _bother_ denying it–“

****

“Will you _stop–_ “

A bit more splashing than there should have been echoed up.

****

“He instigated!”

“Well, maybe _you_ should’ve stopped watching the sails!”

Hakoda handed off the wheel, walking over to see three soaking wet boys.

“If you didn’t want me to _watch,_ maybe you shouldn’t bring me on _deck_ –“

“Please,” Panuk begged. “please just _pretend_ to deny it.”

The Princess was pinching her nose in between two fingers, the nails newly clipped and short.

“back to work,” Hakoda called.

****

“–nineteen, and Panuk here is twenty-one.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Panuk crowed.

“… sixteen,” the Prince said.

“ _what?_ But like… about to turn seventeen, right?”

“My birthday was two months ago.”

… that… made sense. Everything made a lot more sense.

“I mean, Azula’s fourteen, so–“

“ _What?_ No way–“

The same age as Katara. It wasn’t as comforting as it should’ve been.

****

“Hey, Panuk! Smell this.”

“What, hey, don’t shove things in– wait. What?”

“I don’t know, it’s like… a _really_ cozy campfire. But like, with some kind of spice?”

“Here, gimme–“

“You can’t just… _sniff_ someone’s _bending!_ ” the Prince shrieked. “It’s– Stop that! Give that back, that’s _weird–“_

****

Sometime in between Zuzu going back for seconds and thirds of lunch and the sun setting, the boys had finished all the laundry. Zuzu had even gotten to change back into his clothes.

She got her nightclothes back, but she wasn’t about to wear _those_ walking around a ship full of Watertribe men.

The Chief even let her carry a bucket full of water into her room that night. It seems even his insistence for constant supervision had boundaries.

The water was warm, but there wasn’t any soap. Still, clean clothes and washed hair did wonders for her ability to get a good night’s sleep.

Mother still crept into the corner of her dreams, but–

But that had been happening for years, and she wasn’t creeping forewords this time so…

It could’ve been worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, University is wholly kicking my ass, so don't expect the next update until At Least the end of November, but there should be regular updates throughout December
> 
> Thank you for reading, and as always, come yell at me on [https://www.tumblr.com/blog/grandapplewit](%E2%80%9CTumblr.%E2%80%9D)

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat with me on Tumblr, I'm grandapplewit
> 
> If you haven't read Salvage you should go check it out


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